


Art of Living

by CQueen



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Hidden Talents, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2018-10-22 05:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CQueen/pseuds/CQueen
Summary: Gotham billionaire Bane and Lieutenant Robin Blake have a few things in common.  Both have very mysterious pasts that they go to considerable lengths to hide, a deep love for art, and an unfortunate attraction to individuals who are as dangerous as they are attractive.  And both are about to discover just how much more colorful their lives can be.





	1. Art is Dangerous

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the plot. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

Art Is Dangerous

"Art is dangerous. It is one of the attractions: when it ceases to be dangerous you don't want it." Duke Ellington

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. Bane had always considered Shakespeare's words in this case to be accurate, as the majority of people went about their lives acting roles while pretending to be people radically different from their true selves. And now an unexpected drama was playing out before him, and Bane was curious enough to see how it ended to stay, rather than leave before the drama concluded. Not that anyone seemed to remember he was even present at the moment.

That was unusual these days, since he'd come to Gotham. Billionaires, particular ones with his sort of reputation, rarely went unnoticed even in a crowd. And that was before you factored in his size and the fact that even a child had the sense to look at him, and know that he was someone to both avoid and keep a wary eye on.

But for the moment a life was on the line, and all eyes were on the room that held that fragile life.

For himself, Bane had come to the museum to pick up a painting he'd purchased from them earlier in the week. It was part of a collection he'd been accumulating for years now, and his latest offer had been one they could no longer refuse. They'd offered to ship it to him, but he'd fancied a trip through the museum and had opted to just pick it up on his way out. And it was during his conversation with the assistant director that word had come down as to why his painting wasn't waiting for him at the end of his tour, and he'd come with the man to one of the museum's basements on a whim.

Inside the reinforced, vault type room he was looking at now was not only his painting, but two museum employees desperately trying, from what he'd overheard, to keep a third from bleeding out, while outside the vault others failed to get the room's door open. Some glitch had caused the high tech, built in security system to think it was being robbed, causing its door to slide closed without warning on them. The woman standing in the doorway, waiting to help carry his painting out, had nearly been crushed. She'd dived into the room to avoid that fate, only to be impaled by some sort of metal sculpture some fool had left too close to the room's only entrance. Those inside to help with the painting's removal were doing what they could, but that was little enough in the face of such an injury.

The assistant director didn't have the code to override the system, and the director, who was out of the country, had given them a code that hadn't worked. So far the police and EMTs standing by had beat the safecracker and security experts to the museum.

The woman was rapidly running out of time.

Feeling eyes on him Bane glanced in the direction of the cop currently in charge of this drama, the other man giving him a hard look before returning to his early position of standing there and doing nothing. Typical of his kind. And just one of the many reasons why he'd never been more than questioned by any of the many cops who'd tried to charge him with something in his lifetime.

He was untouchable. And very, very good at covering his tracks.

)

The feeling of change, that something in the balance of the wide, open space they were standing in had shifted, had Bane turning as something in his gut coiled, his muscles tightening even before he laid eyes on the man who'd entered on silent feet. Was making his way towards them with long, sure, strides that had all the grace and sleekness of a predator.

His instinctual reaction to this man he'd never seen before, well that was an unexpected punch to the gut Bane had not seen coming. And he was never caught off-guard.

Brown and brown, five foot ten, slender build. A man who was good looking in a wholesome, not particularly striking way, Bane's mind catalogued, but with an air about him that spoke both of strength and secrets. Deep secrets that said that this one was not all that he seemed, which made him far more attractive to him than the faces Bane saw on billboards and in magazines.

"Blake. Thank God. Get your ass over here." There was relief written all over the head cop's face. "Take a look at this door and see if there's anything you can do to get it open ASAP. We're running out of time."

No longer striding like a feline with all the time in the world, Blake ran over, his questions straight to the point. "You just said to come in your text. What's the sitch?"

"Woman dying behind that door that we can't open."

"Shit. What do we know about it?" The man called Blake started to study the keypad situated beside the door after issuing that command, his gaze going from there to the door itself with furrowed brows. From the inside of his leather jacket he pulled out a leather case of some sort, using a tool from it to take off the keypad's casing to study the guts of it while he listened.

Quickly and efficiently the head cop summarized what had happened, and then relayed all that data he'd been given about the security system by the director.

"Yeah. That's bullshit. Fucker."

"What?"

"This isn't a Maxwell. It's a fucking Graystone XII." Blake's fist banged against the wall in a controlled show of anger. "Someone went to some effort and expense to hide it, but I'm betting that's what we're dealing with here. This glitch, it's what bankrupted the company eleven years ago. It doesn't look good when your system literally breaks a woman in half." He snorted in derision. "There were other narrow misses and injuries, enough to prove the system was faulty and too dangerous to use. Back then, this museum's budget would have been broken affording one…enough that I'm guessing they couldn't afford to replace it. Hired someone to dress it up, alter it enough for it not to be obvious to the average eye, but I can see under that."

Both men ignored the squawk of protest and denials coming from the assistant director, which was only to be expected. Though Bane did appreciate Blake reminding the man that he was looking at a million dollar lawsuit here, and that a death would cost him more than a serious injury, so shut the fuck up.

"So we're fucked?" The other cop stated in the ensuing silence.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Which means…?"

"All thieves have their signatures. What I'm seeing here, I think La Araña has been in here at some point since it was put in. And that means he fucked with this system to make it easier for him to get in should he want to come back. It's one of his classic M.O.s. He would have known what he was dealing with and altered in accordingly inside and out. You said three people inside. Who are the two still standing?"

"Daniel Thorne and Charlotte Hobbs."

"Charlie? Charlie's in there? That's…good. That's fucking good. I know her. We have a way to talk to her?"

"The curator over there is in contact with them. He was the one they called to raise the alarm."

"Okay. Okay."

Moving away from the door, and holding up a finger that made it clear silence was required as he thought his next move over, the man named Blake stared off into space for about three heartbeats and then he was looking around, his eyes accessing as they moved from person to person.

Then those dark eyes met his, and time seemed to stop all over again.

A moment, and then Blake was striding over to him, coming to a stop when there was about a foot between them.

"Did you earn that body or buy it?"

Surprised, Bane stared at him.

"Look, do you have the strength to go with that beautiful body or not?"

"Strength enough." Beautiful he was not. By a long shot. And yet there'd been no sarcasm in the other man's voice, and the head to toe look he'd been given had felt admiring at the very least.

"Good. Come with me."

Curiosity had him following after the man, stopping when he was told to.

"Scott. Stand with him. What I'm going to try to do is talk Charlotte through tripping the system up so that that door slides open again. But what it's going to do is slide open and then it's going to close again just as fast as before. You two are going to catch it on the return trip and buy them a second or two. Just do what you can. Don't let it drag you or get in front of it."

Orders given to them, the younger man marched over to the curator to demand he hand over the phone.

And while the man in charge talked to this Charlotte person about what she was to do on her end Bane switched his attention over to the person who had brought Blake into this situation, and therefore could tell him more about the man he was determined to get to know as soon as possible. Starting with asking the cop who the other man was, and if he was one of the security or safecrackers called in.

The cop gave him the cop eye, but answered. "That's Lieutenant Blake. GCPD."

A cop? Usually his instincts were too finely honed in that area to be fooled. Then again, given his earlier reaction…perhaps not that surprising after all.

"He's in Robbery, then."

"Homicide."

Homicide? The plot thickened. And many more questions occurred to him to him as a result. But they would have to wait it seemed, especially since a cop was never a trustworthy source of information unless he'd bought and paid for him. And even then he was wary.

So instead he settled for watching Blake as the man spoke to the woman stuck inside the room, noted the soothing, yet authoritative tone the homicide cop used. As he didn't imagine he'd ever be stuck in such a room, he paid people to steal for him, Bane saw little reason to pay attention to what wires the woman was being told to find. Instead he simply enjoyed the voice while he pulled out his cellphone and quickly typed out a message to his second, ordering him to have a full report on Lieutenant Blake, Homicide, ASAP.

Tucking his phone back in Bane had a couple moments to wonder what Barsad would find out and then Blake was telling them to get ready, pausing for a moment and then he started counting down from three.

As promised the door slid out, fast as a snake as it opened completely in a blur of motion to reveal a woman and a man holding another woman in the doorway for the brief moment Bane glanced in that direction and then the door shot back out to close, and it was time for him and the cop to grab ahold and try and slow it down.

Pushing himself to his limits and surpassing them, this was something Bane lived for.

But as the young cop had said, the two of them were only able to buy the trapped museum workers a couple seconds more, but that proved to be enough time for the two still standing to throw themselves out of the doorway and to safety, the EMTs there to take over as they immediately went to work on the limp body the man gratefully passed over to them.

The woman Bane assumed was Charlotte all but threw herself into Blake's arms for a tight hug, rocking the man from side to side before turning him loose to run over to hug the curator.

)

The woman could hug, Blake thought as he watched her run over to glomp Mr. Green, who looked quite taken aback by the show of gratitude but stayed on his feet, which took some doing, Blake now knew. The smile he was wearing slipped from his face though when his eyes drifted over to the woman dying nearly at his feet. There was nothing more he could do for her, he didn't have the training. He'd had the time though, dammit, if he'd only known sooner, sped a little faster, ran when he had…

"Stop it. She'd be dead if not for you. She's got a chance now."

And there was the reason he'd come strolling in instead of at the run, wanting to make the point that he was not at Scott's beck and call, either personally or professionally.

Looking down at the hand on his shoulder Blake considered shaking it off, but that would give it too much importance, so he let it rest there. He also shut down the temptation to give Scott a look that would remind the other man that he didn't have the right to put hands on him, or say anything to that affect either. Instead he opted to shrug his shoulder a little and then turn his gaze to the other, even more gorgeous man in the room.

Most people wouldn't call Bane, Mr. only one name like Cher, gorgeous, but Blake wasn't most people. He'd been trained from a young age to appreciate beauty in all its forms, and DAMN, that man's body was a work of art. And knowing the time, training, and effort that had to have gone into forming those muscles and gain that strength…that was more to be admired than the most perfect of faces. And yes, the scars that ran over the man's lips, distorting them and hiding, at first glance, what otherwise would have been an almost pretty face, weren't pretty, but Blake dug scars and admired the hell out of a man with billions at his disposal who didn't bother to spend a sliver on it to beautify himself. No, what you saw was what you got with Bane…and the power, self-confidence, and strength radiating from the other man…well it was no wonder that he'd felt it like a full body blow, when their eyes had met.

"No."

It took a moment for Scott's word to catch his attention, but Blake was curious enough to glance in the other cop's direction with a raised eyebrow.

"That's BANE, Blake. Quit eye fucking him." Scott hissed the words at him, his fingers digging in a little for emphasis. "Just because he doesn't have a record doesn't change the fact that every cop shop in the world knows he's a criminal. You need to stay away from him. FAR away from him. You hear me? He already tried to pump me for information about you."

That, right there, crossed a line.

And doing nothing to hide that fact, Blake gave Scott his coldest stare. "And you have the right to tell me what I can and can't do because…?"

He could see Scott realizing what he'd done, that the older man was well aware of the fact that Blake was exactly the sort of person to do something he'd been told not to do out of spite. Especially an ex-boyfriend he'd split up with because Scott was in the closet about being bisexual.

"Blake…"

"I'll write up my statement and email it to you. Bye, Lieutenant."

Lucky for Scott the other man had the sense to let his shoulder go rather than try and keep ahold of him. Still, Blake felt Scott's gaze zero in on his back like a sniper's beam as he walked over to where Bane stood, a spot of calm in the chaos and high energy around them.

And as much as he would have liked to grab ahold of Bane's lapels and pull the man in for what was sure to be one hell of a kiss, Blake was smart enough to realize that as satisfying as that would be, on a number of levels, he'd also be biting himself on his own ass.

Like Lays chips Blake was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to settle for just one, and Scott was right about Bane not being the sort of man he wanted to get tangled up with.

Well no, actually, he'd love to get tangled up in a sweaty mess with the man watching him so intently after hours of really great sex, but Blake found enough trouble in his life without actively seeking it out.

Not to mention the fact that his family would not be pleased.

So instead of the kiss he wanted to deliver with great enthusiasm, Blake settled for very formally and politely holding out his hand instead. "On behalf of the GCP and myself, personally, I want to thank you for your help. Those couple seconds made all the difference."

"You are welcome."

Oh. Gotta love the accent. Especially since he couldn't place it, which was very unusual since he'd traveled all over the world and spoke multiple languages as a result. If he had to guess, he'd go with Middle Eastern, though the man's physical appearance didn't back that up. But either way he'd love to hear that voice whispering in his ear. And the man's hand, too, enveloping his so completely and further demonstrating their undeniably chemistry even without their close quarters and the fact that they were both very much aware of the other's interest in them. Damn.

But all good things must come to an end, as the saying went, and so with regret he didn't try to hide in his eyes, Blake slid his hand out from Bane's.

"It was nice to meet you Mr. Bane. I hope we don't have to meet in an official capacity in the future."

One last look, and then Blake forced himself to turn around and start walking away, very much aware that he was being watched every step of the way.


	2. Art Is Not What You See

Art Is Not What You See

"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see." Edgar Degas

Adrenaline and the high of a successful breaking into something fizzled through Blake as he walked down the museum steps, his chemistry with the mysterious and very dangerous Bane just one more explosive element in the brew sparking his nerve endings and making his fingers actual tingle with the desire to go and steal something. Which given that a museum was right behind him wouldn't be hard, Blake silently acknowledged with a smirk. Not to mention all the tourists milling around, ripe for the picking with their wallets sticking out of back pockets and loose grip on their swinging purses. God, he could make so much money and it wouldn't even take-

Once a thief, always a thief, Blake thought as his fingers curled into a fist, reminding himself with the quick dig of his nails into his palms that his thieving days were long, long over. He'd closed that chapter of his life decades ago, and while Blake was self-aware enough to realize that a dangling purse or a piss poor security system would always catch his attention, flip a switch that circumstances had put in him, so to speak, but he was a cop now, and that was-

His cellphone signaling a text had Blake pulling out his phone, smiling when he saw that the message in question was from his twin. And knowing what to expect as he accessed Arthur's message, Blake wasn't surprised to see that it was a short message asking if everything was all right.

The strength of a twin's bond varied from pair to pair, or so the experts said, but his to his brother had always been unusual strong from what he'd gleaned from other pairs. Theirs was so strong that they often knew, in some indescribable way, when something was up with the other. When emotions were high and the other might be needed. Even when Arthur was all but on the other side of the planet at the moment.

Fingers moving across the keys Blake typed out a quick explanation of what had happened, sending it after reviewing it for typos since Arthur was guaranteed to comment otherwise. His younger brother couldn't help himself.

Message sent, and stomach grumbling a reminder that he hadn't had lunch yet, Blake turned his head and smiled in the direction of the hotdog vendor that was, as always, at his spot on the nearby corner. It wasn't the slice of Firango's pizza he'd intended to pick up, but it would do in a pinch.

Walking over and getting in line Blake occupied himself trading messages back and forth as Arthur asked for more detail about what had happened, followed by a rant about the stupidity of the museum for keeping the system in the first place. The amount of money the three people that had been trapped in the thing could be expected to get when the y sued the museum's asses off… There certainly wouldn't be money for any new exhibits for a while, which disappointed them both since they were both frequent visitors to all the good museums in the city.

And though they'd only just met Blake felt a shiver of awareness then that preceded the voice he recognized immediately.

"You aren't seriously intending to eat something from that cart, are you?"

"I am. And don't tell me what's in hotdogs either. I don't want to know." Looking up from his phone Blake flashed Bane a smile. "Shouldn't you be back in there giving your statement?"

"I will give one when it's convenient for me to do so. Your friend has my lawyer's number."

Ohhh, Scott had to be seriously pissed right about now. He was sorry he'd missed it.

His phone signaling another message, Blake excused himself to check it, grinning widely when he saw that his brother intended to contact the museum to offer his services after this, which probably wouldn't happen since said museum wouldn't be able to afford Arthur at the moment. But it would be a nice dig since the director of the museum had never liked them, even as teenagers. Proving that the man might be a complete idiot when it came to some of the choices he'd made in the past, but had excellent instincts when it came to recognizing foxes one didn't want in his hen house.

"Your lover?"

Raising an eyebrow even as he sent a simple smiley face before looking up to meet Bane's gaze, Blake smirked at him. "My better half, actually." A pause for that to sink in. "My twin brother."

"I see. Fraternal or identical?"

"Identical. At least in theory. We have very different styles, so only someone who didn't know we had a twin would mistake us."

At the sound of a cleared throat to get his attention Blake looked over with an apologetic look in Henry's direction. "Sorry, Henry. I'll have the usual and…care for something, Mr. Bane? My treat."

The look the man gave him was unimpressed as he asked for a bottle of water.

Laughing, of course the man would pick the one 'healthy' item Henry sold, Blake smiled at him and then told Henry to put that on the order as well, pulling out his wallet to pay and leave the man a healthy tip on top of that.

Since he did indeed know what Blake ordered the vendor had it already ready for him, Blake thanking him as the hotdog and can of coke were handed over. Setting the can down for a moment to take the water, Blake turned and passed it over to Bane before going to work loading up his hotdog with his standard toppings and condiments.

"Are you trying to put yourself into an early grave?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Bane, haven't you heard? Only the good die young."

Hotdog ready for consumption after one last squirt of ketchup, Blake jerked his chin in the direction he wanted Bane to go, and then followed after him once he'd opened his pop and collected everything, including extra napkins. Together they headed over to the convenient low stone wall that encircled this part of the museum and was perfect for sitting on even if Blake did have to stretch a little to make it.

Perching on it with his coke at his side, Blake had to admit that he was surprised when Bane took a seat beside him, choosing to sit closer to him than he had to. Not that he really minded as he took his first bite of his lunch, humming in pleasure just because.

At his side Bane made a sound of disgust as he unscrewed the lid of his water to take a sip.

"How is it a homicide cop knows so much about security systems and how to break into them?"

"I'm a man of many talents. My brother runs his own business that specializes in museum and private collectors' security and retrieval."

"Retrieval?"

"If someone steals something from your private collection I recommend hiring him to find out who took it. Provided of course that what's gone missing actually belongs to you."

Like him Arthur had gone straight, but his brother still had his lock picks in the game, so to speak, in that his twin was occasionally hired to retrieve things where the statute of limitations had passed, and getting them back to their original owners required some breaking and entering. The man they called Father didn't like it, what cop would, but he also understood that it was something Arthur needed to do to make amends for what the two of them had once done to survive.

Blake had tried to compare it to 'Dexter', but that hadn't gone over well with either their father or Arthur. Which, given how that show had gone downhill halfway through, was understandable. Especially since Arthur dressed so much better. Though it was probably comparing breaking and entering to killing people they hadn't liked.

"And if I were to say that you shouldn't believe all that you've heard of me?"

To buy him a minute to think of how to respond to that, Blake smiled knowingly as he chewed and then swallowed a bite of his lunch.

"I don't believe everything I've heard. But I looked into you when you decided to make Gotham your home, Bane. And I have contacts all over the world." Well technically a lot of them were Arthur's contacts, but his brother had done a lot of the researching about Bane for him.

"And what did these contacts tell you about me?"

"That you are a very, very, bad man."

"Yet you sit beside me."

Toasting Bane with his coke, Blake winked at the other man for good measure. And was about to point out that maybe Bane should be the one who was worried, sitting so close to a cop, when his phone went off again.

Pulling it out Blake read the readout. "It's Dispatch."

Accepting the call Blake identified himself.

"Dispatch, Lieutenant Blake. Your presence is required at Thirteen West Third. Officers standing by, possible homicide."

"Acknowledged and on my way. ETA fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Understood."

Saying goodbye, Blake ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He was sad to go, but duty called, as the saying went. And it was probably for the best since God only knew what trouble he could get into, bantering with the sexy man watching him so intently.

"Sorry, but I'm going to have to eat and run. Goodbye again, Mr. Bane."

"Just Bane. And I'd like to continue this conversation over dinner tonight. With proper food."

Laughing at the dig, Blake shook his head as he hopped off his seat, draining the coke quickly in a couple quick gulps before tossing it into the recycling receptacle he'd deliberately sat close to before turning back to Bane with what was left of his hotdog still in his hand.

"Thanks. But not a good idea."

"Why not?" Bane asked, no longer sitting but standing before him and moving closer by the second. "I thought you weren't afraid of me?"

"Really not. But I have a bad feeling you'd be addicting, and I have enough vices already."

But because he was stupid, and just didn't know when to leave well enough alone, Blake gave into temptation and shifted up onto tippy toes as he leaned forward so that their cheeks were almost touching as he purred at the other man's ear.

"But when you imagine us having sex tonight, and you will, keep in mind that I'm ten times better in bed than you're imagining I am."

Leaning back Blake smiled, and then walked off with a hint of a saunter since he not only knew he had a great ass, but this was so the first episode of 'Castle', which was a thought that amused the hell out of him.

Even as a voice in the back of his head pointed out that that comparison did not bode well for him in the future.

)

As soon as he was behind the wheel of his car Bane turned it on and then put in a call to Barsad, impatiently tapping on the steering wheel until his second finally picked up. And he wasted no time with pleasantries as soon as the other man's voice came over the line. Getting straight to the point he asked Barsad what he'd learned about Blake as he pulled out of his parking spot.

"First off, if you checked your messages, you'd know I need to know if you mean Lieutenant Shin Blake or his son, Lieutenant Robin Blake. Both are Homicide."

"The latter."

"Alright then. I've only just started, but I have the basics. Such as they are. Apparently born February 11th, 1984, though the birth certificate is fake. He has an identical twin, Arthur. Father already identified, the mother's name is an alias, and her birth name is unknown."

Eyebrows raised, he hadn't expected this, Bane asked what was known about the mother.

"Not a hell of a lot. Or not that her sons were or are telling. From what I've dug up they just showed up on their father's doorstep when they were twelve, both recovering from life threatening bullet wounds and with a note from their mother stating that he was their father and she needed him to look after them from now on. She set up bank accounts for both boys, and another for the father with child support payments, but the FBI weren't able to track it back to the source. The name on the birth certificate was fake, as I said, and the boys stated that it was the only name they knew her by."

"She never came back for them?"

"Not that I've found so far. But there's a lot to sift through. The lack of a paper trail before they came to Gotham…it's intriguing. Especially when you consider that the FBI looked into it due to who Shin Blake's adoptive father is. Takahiro Kawada Blake."

It took a moment, but Bane recognized the name.

When he'd begun the process of moving to Gotham one of his business associates, both legal and not, had approached him to wish him well while making it clear that there was a family in his new city that was under Saito's protection. If anything happened to any member of that family because of Bane, he would be making himself a very powerful enemy.

He'd been intrigued enough to look at the patriarch of that family, and had subsequently hired the man to provide his business headquarters and home with flower arrangements. Takahiro Blake was of Japanese descent, a boyhood friend of Hikaru Saito, who had moved to Gotham in his early twenties. Within a year of arriving he'd become involved with a man nineteen years his senior, and had used his significant trust fund money to make the man's florist business a nationally successful chain.

"He was of interest to them because of his connection to Saito and his mother's yakuza ties, yes?"

"Exactly. He's clean as far as they can tell, not that that means anything. Same with the three children he and his late husband adopted, Shin being their youngest. He's divorced by the way, and like his sons lives in a renovated loft owned by his father."

"Keep looking into that. What else have you learned about him specifically?"

"He holds bachelor degrees in criminology and art history, with a minor in languages. Graduated top of his class from the police academy, and moved up the ranks of GCP quickly, with an impressive record. He writes and speaks English, French, Russian, Japanese, and Mandarin fluently, with a working knowledge of Cantonese and German. He also has training in martial arts and gymnastics, but his skill levels and exact training aren't known, as apparently he was trained in house by family members and friends."

"Impressive for someone so young."

"Yeah. I'll look into the possibility that Robin and Arthur are sleeper agents for a foreign country. They claim their country of origin is America, but…."

Following his second's thought process Bane could see why Barsad thought there was reason to be concerned. Someone who could speak even three languages was considered impressive, five…cause to question. Particularly when their first twelve years were a blank. A little over a decade was plenty of time to indoctrinate a child for many purposes.

It would not be the first time either, that a government sent an agent or spy in his direction, thinking they'd learn more from sliding one of their own into his bed as opposed to one of his businesses. All had failed, of course…and he did not think that his intriguing little bird was giving him chase to make him want him more.

He thought Robin Blake was a man who liked to play with fire.

Bane was not about to be played with while getting nothing in return.

)

Blake was almost back to his cop shop when his phone went off yet again, making him glad that he was caught in traffic since as a cop he knew better than to be on his phone while driving. That's how accidents happened, and he'd been on the scene of plenty while still in uniform. And those were the sorts of visuals that stuck with you, Blake thought as he put his phone on speaker so that he would have his hands free when traffic eased up and he could move.

"Commissioner." Most cops would freak a little at the idea of getting an unexpected call from their commissioner, but Blake had known Jim Gordon for a little over two decades, and the man was a close friend of his father's.

"Blake. Anything you want to tell me?"

Intrigued, Blake wondered what was up even as he shot back an amusing bit of trivia while he tried to think of what he might have done. "Did you know that it's believed that we shake with our right hands because most people are right handed, and therefore it signals to the other person that we're unarmed?"

"I didn't know that. Nor do I know why I just got a call informing me that Bane is refusing to give his statement about what he saw at the museum to anyone but you. And expects you at his place of residence tonight at seven for dinner to get said statement."

"Oh he is GOOD." He hadn't seen that coming, and now was a little irked that he hadn't. It was so totally what he would have done in the other man's shoes.

"Robin."

"He asked me out to dinner, but I declined." Blake explained. "This is his way of getting around that."

"Not if I put my foot down and make him come in."

"You could, but you don't need to. It's just dinner." And besides, if he didn't go he couldn't get one up on Bane after the man had so effortless manipulated him into accepting his invitation. He couldn't let that stand. No way.

"You'll be careful."

"Of course. This is me we're talking about."

"Exactly."


	3. Learn The Rules

Learn The Rules

"Learn the rules like a pro, break them like an artist." Picasso

Bane had given some thought to entertaining the lieutenant in his more opulent formal dining room, which he had little use for as he rarely entertained. But in the end he chose the room where he regularly ate his meals, wanting the other man close and relaxed in his presence. As a student of both art and history the formal dining area would have also distracted his curious little bird with its paintings and furnishings, and Bane wanted all of Lieutenant Robin Blake's attention on him.

He'd spent his time reviewing the data Barsad was collecting on the cop in between other tasks since coming home, and with every new piece of the puzzle Bane found himself more intrigued and determined to strip aside the man's masks. Along with his clothing, of course, since Robin had made sure that sex with him would be constantly on Bane's mind.

And having decided that he wanted to see the man's impression of his home, Bane waited until ten minutes before Robin was to come before heading downstairs with the idea of being there to open the door himself. Not something he made a habit of, he preferred having a minion or Barsad act as his go between whenever possible, but this was no ordinary visitor to his abode.

On the device in his hands Bane continued to study the man's financial portfolio, which was impressive to say the least. The absentee mother, or someone claiming to be their mother, had gifted both Blake twins with two million dollars when they came of age, and while the man's father didn't make a great deal of money in the same profession as his eldest son the patriarch of the Blake family provided well for his son and grandsons. All four Blake men were wealthy enough that they didn't need to work, each worth millions, and yet two of them had chosen to become policemen. To risk their lives every day for a largely thankless and never-ending profession. Intriguing.

Then there was his bird's twin, Arthur. An equally complex man with just as many, if not more hidden depths than his brother. It was whispered that the younger twin not only provided security and the retrieval of stolen goods, but was willing to go outside the law when it came to the latter. But only to take back what had already been stolen. The man didn't take from original owners. Barsad had yet to confirm the latter as fact, but the rest came from sources Bane trusted. Which was interesting, especially if Robin knew about his brother's proclivities.

His phone signaling that someone was at his front gates, Bane used the device to access his security cameras. And then raised his eyebrows at the fact that his guest was arriving on a motorcycle.

Security let Blake through the gates as per orders, Bane watching the man speed up his drive before coming to a rather showy stop at the bottom of the stairs, rolling his bike a little off to the side before sliding off it with easy grace. And while Bane watched Robin reached up to undo the strap on the helmet before taking it off, swiping a hand over his head before starting up the steps towards the door with no hesitation at all.

Putting his phone away Bane waited until the other man knocked before unlocking and then opening the door to admit him.

Standing in his doorway Robin's lips curved into a very sexy little grin as he looked Bane up and down while he did the same, Bane taking in the milk chocolate leather jacket, which covered the man from neck to waist, and the black jeans tucked into very expensive leather boots the same shade as the jacket. The man's face was appealing colored from his ride, Bane noted, especially paired with that grin and those eyes that sparked with promises of misbehavior.

"Answering your own door. Butler have the night off?"

"Says the man who has more than enough money to have hired help of your own." Though he didn't, Bane knew, aside from a twice monthly cleaner.

"My father's housekeeper makes me food for my freezer sometimes."

Closing the door, Bane didn't comment on that even as he thought that it was a good thing that there was someone who was making sure the cop ate more than crap.

Just as well that he'd held back his thoughts on the matter, Bane discovered a moment later, as he doubted that he would have been heard.

Standing in the middle of the front foyer Robin's attention is focused solely on the architecture and art within his sight. Not saying anything, but just appreciating it all as it deserved.

More than a few minutes passed before the cop finally spoke. "Impressive."

"Thank you."

Offering to take Blake's jacket and helmet from him, Bane held the helmet for him while Robin unsnapped the strap across his throat and then unzipped his jacket to reveal the navy blue dress shirt underneath. Bane liked how it looked on him, particular the open buttons that gave him a lovely, unhindered view and access to his bird's throat. Taking the garment when it was offered Bane hung up the jacket and then placed the helmet on one of the tables that flanked the front doors.

Returning to the other man's side Bane offered the cop his arm, which Robin took with a grin.

"Dinner's waiting, so I hope you've brought your appetite."

The smirk Blake gave him said it all. "It's all going to be disgustingly healthy, isn't it?"

"You have a problem with food that is designed to nourish rather than destroy your body?"

Moving with that innate feline grace of his, Robin slid from his side to stand in front of him, their chest brushing deliberately as Robin looked up at him knowingly. "Something wrong with my body, Bane?"

Bane saw no reason not to be blunt. "I'll let you know once I've thoroughly examined every inch of you."

Grinning in delight, Robin set his hands on Bane's chest, the heat of them somehow penetrating the fabric of his dress shirt. "And just when did I give you the impression that I'll let you? In fact, I'm pretty sure I told you the opposite."

"Have you? I think not."

A small nod of acknowledgement, though there was something in the man's eyes that made it clear he was going to be difficult about this. "Lead the way to the food, and after maybe we'll discuss other appetites. And the statement I've come to get."

Inclining his head in agreement, Bane motioned for the other man to follow him.

)

With a trained eye Blake took in the beautifully preserved wooden floors, antique furniture, and most impressive to him, wished he could do back to studying the very old stained glass dome set into the foyer's ceiling. It depicted a pond of sorts, with glass lilies, rushes, and fish expertly rendered. It brought to Blake's mind Monet, who was a favorite of his. He loved the man's use of color.

And those stained glass panels would be easy enough to remove if he were breaking in with the right tools.

Hazard of his former trade, as was the way Blake's eyes naturally moved over the valuables as he followed Bane deeper into the man's house, cataloguing what he had and what it was worth. Not that he didn't also appreciate some of it aesthetically, he did, but none of it called to him either, aside from that stained glass.

"Did you hire someone, or decorate yourself?"

"I bought it this way. I've changed little on this floor."

"That's what I thought." When Bane gave his a questioning look Blake grinned. "These rooms aren't designed by a man with a military, organized mind. Not to mention the feel of them isn't you either."

"And you think you know me well enough to say that?"

"I think you're smart enough to have the public rooms present the façade you want to present to the people who come here. Your personal rooms, I'm guessing, have quite a different feel and look to them." They'd be spartan, he was sure, with only those things with real meaning or value displayed on walls or in shelves alongside the useful and necessary. Functionality over comfort, though Blake imagined that at least the bed would be impressive, if for no other reason that the size of its owner.

Pity he was smart enough not to ask for a tour of it.

So of course Bane's next words were a statement that they could tour his personal rooms after dinner.

"Love to. But unfortunately that's not on the menu."

"As I am your host, isn't the menu up to me?"

The devil made him do it. "You can offer me what you like, Bane. Doesn't mean it goes in my mouth."

Both of them took a moment to imagine that before Bane recovered himself enough to respond.

"Given your background, you must know that one does not insult one's host by refusing their gifts. And that it is the height of arrogance and stupidity, to not sample and appreciate new things simply because you haven't tried them before."

"Ah, but in this case I simply want to insure the wellbeing of the gift being offered. I'm very rough on my toys, I'm afraid."

"And you think that I cannot handle you?"

"No man has managed it yet."

"Given the sort of man that calls Gotham home, that does not surprise me."

Making a sound of agreement, picking were damn slim, unfortunately, Blake left it at that, especially as they'd just entered the room he had a feeling they'd be dining in. The silverware and covered dishes rather gave that away. As did the delicious smells currently circulating the room.

Stomach rumbling, that hotdog was long gone at this point, Blake made a beeline for the closest chair, while Bane moved around the relatively small table to take the seat across from him.

Lifting off the cover Blake stared at the chicken, baked potato, and mixed vegetables, and smiled.

"Well, if it tastes as good as it looks there will be nothing left on this plate when I'm done with it."

"Good."

Given that nothing he'd learned about Bane suggested that he was religious, and he himself wasn't, Robin turned his attention to cutting up his chicken, pleased to see it was at least seasoned with herbs. Somehow he doubted Bane had ketchup in the house.

"Bread?"

Looking at the bread basket he was being offered, whole grain, Blake considered and then decided what the hell, eating healthy tonight meant an excuse to eat unhealthy tomorrow.

And since he was pretty sure what was on the little circle dish wasn't even a distant cousin of butter, Blake opted to just eat it the way it is.

"Itadakimasu."

Surprise, and then the realization that he shouldn't have been because of course Bane had researched him enough to know of his Japanese 'roots', Blake returned the sentiment. Bane had been known to do business with Saito, Blake reminded himself, which meant that at some point the latter had probably warned Bane about coming near Robin's family.

But rather than ask, Blake settled for asking Bane in Japanese if he was fluent.

"I am."

Intrigued and wanting to continue to play, Blake asked Bane what other languages he spoke. In French.

"Bol'she chem ty." Was Bane's response, which meant 'more than you' in Russian.

"I do love a man with a gift for tongues."

And settling in Blake prepared to see just what languages they had in common.

Which proved to be every language he was fluent in, which was sexy as hell from Blake's point of view. It was rare for him to encounter someone who was not only his type physically, but mentally as well. It was a stereotype of course, that the more brawn you had, the less brains you must possess, but it was more accurate than not in Blake's experience. Add in sexy accent, dangerous aura, and being utterly forbidden…and really, it just was not fair that he couldn't have his cake and eat it too.

Bane probably hated cake.

So he settled for discussing languages, countries they'd visited or hoped to see, and their shared love of art.

)

By the end of the meal Bane had already mentally plotted out any number of moves where his conniving little bird was concerned. He was determined to have Robin now, he wouldn't settle for anything less, and while the other man was obviously enjoying himself, and him, Bane had a feeling that his precocious little bird had every intention of leaving here without giving him more than a verbal taste of him. And that just would not do.

So he continued to plot and plan as he gave his statement about the events of that day, which Robin recorded on his phone. It was fairly cut and dry, and would have taken only a few minutes of his time at the museum, but he'd had no interest in talking to the cop in charge, and every reason to ensure a future meeting with the one seated across from him.

When they were done Robin turned off the recording app on his phone and then shoved it back in his pant pocket. "Well that takes care of that. And I should be going. It's been a long day."

Getting up from his chair and walking around the table, Bane very deliberately placed himself between his quarry and the only exit out of the room. A fact that would have scared most men, but only made his bird tip his head back to study him, waiting.

Reaching out Bane gently slid a single finger along the man's jawline. "We are far from done."

His touch was permitted, but those dark eyes said no even before the cop spoke the words. "For tonight we are."

"So you will see me again?"

Tensing automatically when the other man hands came up, he was long trained to expect the worst, Bane maintained eye contact despite the hands that were placed on his chest, not pushing him away but very much ready to act as a barrier if need be.

"Cutting through the bullshit…we can't. Do I want to go upstairs with you, and spend the rest of the night having really amazing sex? That would be a hell yes. But I have to say no, so let me go."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you're going to bleed."

"Why do you have to say no?" Bane demanded to know. The question bought him time, and he wanted to know what obstacles he'd be moving out of his way.

Robin's gaze was both knowing and resigned. "You mean aside from the fact that I'd bet our bank accounts neither of us would be satisfied with one night?"

"Aside from that." That went without saying. It wasn't the norm for him, but then he'd never wanted someone with such single minded focus before either.

"Well there's IAB for starters. I already get the looks from them because of my family without adding you to the mix. If I wanted rats…well really, who the fuck ever wants rats in their lives, even if they're the human kind. Seriously."

"I already know you aren't the type who can be bought. And I have plenty of cops on my payroll. There would be nothing for IAB to find against you. I'd make sure of it even if you were on my payroll."

Robin groaned, fingers digging in to Bane's chest, bunching up his shirt. "See? See that right there? You can't say that shit around me. I'm a fucking cop. If you do anything illegal and I find out about it, and I would find out about it, I'd be required to report you. Which I wouldn't hesitate to do, by the way because this isn't about your survival. It's about money. You don't need to cross those lines anymore, but you do it anyway."

"Robin."

"Oh don't Robin me. And don't think I don't have a good fucking idea what happens to people who are in a position to see you locked up. I want to fuck you, but not enough to die for the privilege. I'm not THAT mental."

"I don't make mistakes like that." It wouldn't be easy, but Bane didn't doubt that he'd be able to keep the cop in front of him in the dark long enough to work him out of his system.

"Willing to bet your freedom on that? I mean I am that good…but still…"

Lowering his head, he'd heard enough, Bane was stopped by a hand over his mouth.

And then the sound of a cellphone going off killed the silent standoff.

"Behave. That's my dad's ringtone."

Sliding a hand back down between them to retrieve the phone, Robin kept his hand firmly over Bane's mouth the whole time, which Bane allowed because…because he wasn't quite sure why, actually. He wasn't used to being denied anything now, and it was in his nature to take what he wanted.

"Father."

Whatever the man on the other end of the call said made Robin grin ruefully in response.

"I was actually just on my way out, Mr. Doubting Thomas."

Some sounds of agreement, then a promise to walk someone or something named Buffy before he turned in for the night. And then Robin was saying good night and ending the call, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

"I'm out past curfew, and dad wants me home or I'm grounded." The hand Robin had been holding over Bane's mouth fell away. "So are you going to play nice and let me leave…or are things going to get physical in a way neither of us is going to enjoy?"

Bane considered, then took a step back. "I'll play nice. For now."

Robin's lips twitched in amusement. "Not going to make this easy, are you?"

"No. Not until I get what I want." A moment's pause. "And who or what is Buffy?"

"Family dog. The name was not our fault. It's a long story."

"I see." Though he really didn't. "I'll escort you out."


	4. As The Sun

As The Sun

"As the sun colors flowers, so does Art color life." John Lubbock

The next day Blake wasn't in a particularly good mood thanks to lack of sleep and extreme horniness that neither his hand nor any of his toys had been able to work out of his system. Not even the half a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts he'd picked up for his breakfast were likely to help his mood any time soon. Or at least the three he'd already eaten on the way to his shop hadn't. He'd bought more for the rest of his division too, though the sight of them all hovering around his desk had him rethinking that selfless gesture. No good could come of them doing that while he wasn't around to stop whatever prank they intended to play on him.

Although…who was the pale, nervous looking guy at his desk they seemed to be encircling?

Curiosity and self-preservation had Blake picking up speed, dropping the two other boxes of donuts on Crispin's desk before calling over to them with deceptive casualness.

"Hey, you ALL looking for me?"

"Lieutenant Robin Blake?" The unknown man asked with relief heavy in his voice, the cops around him moving back a little so that Blake's desk was at least visible to him. And in doing so they revealed the fact that there was definitely something on his desk that he hadn't left there earlier.

He knew flowers. His teenage years had been spent in his grandfather's main shop after school, and he still ended up arranging or selling them on occasion when he had the time and his grandfather needed his help. But still at a first, brief glance, Blake thought he was looking at really poorly made fake flowers. But he was the grandson of a florist and knew not even the dollar stores would sell what he was looking at. So no, these weren't…oh.

Face lighting up with delight, Blake tossed his donut box onto the other side of his desk and then reached out to lift the 'flower' arrangement up by the wicker basket base, turning it around to admire it from all sides.

The flowers were all made of fruit of some kind, cut up and put together to resemble various types of blooms. Strawberries, pineapple, grapes and kiwi, melons as well, the last he'd pass on to someone who would actually eat them so they didn't go to waste. The craftsmanship was first rate, though he'd have to eat it quick since he'd heard somewhere that fruit arrangements like this didn't have a long 'shelf' life so to speak. Not that that would be a hardship.

"Are you Lieutenant Blake?"

Looking over Blake smiled in apology. "I am. Apologies for ignoring you there."

"No problem. If you could just sign off that you got it I'll be out of your hair. I was told I wasn't to leave it to anyone but you."

Setting the basket down Blake held out his hand for the clipboard and pen, asking who'd sent the gift to him as he took the office tools and signed for his present.

"Ah, you'll want to read the card in that envelope for that information, Sir."

Well that certainly explained the cops all hovering around them. The envelope was either sealed or they'd already opened it before the nervous man in front of him could stop them and wanted to give him a hard time about who was sending him presents. Because of course he was pretty sure he knew exactly who it was from.

Retrieving the envelope and finding it unsealed, Blake gave his colleagues knowing looks before withdrawing it to see that there was no message on the plain white card, just Bane's name in elegant handwriting.

"Oh he is so very, very good." Shaking his head as his grin only got bigger, Blake absently handed over the clipboard. "Thanks for the delivery. Hold on a sec for a tip."

The man's eyes bulged at the very idea. "Oh no. No, no, no." He actually waved his hands in front of him for emphasis. "I've already been tipped by Mr-the sender. Honestly. Thank you, but no. Thanks."

"Gotcha. And you can just say Bane, in case he makes a habit of this." Reaching over Blake flipped up the lid on his donut box and held out one of the donuts to the man. Donut? Just between us."

The man could pass on the cash, but pass on a fresh Krispy Kreme donut…well that was asking too much it seemed, as the man actually smiled in thanks as he took it.

Grinning back at him, Blake thanked him again and then sent the poor guy on his way, watching him go before walking around his desk to take his seat, reaching out to bring the arrangement closer to him as he started studying his choices.

Which of course was the signal his fellow cops had been waiting for as they converged on him like a pack of hyenas. Hyenas with donuts in their hands, Blake noted, since of course his brief conversation with the delivery man had given them time to raid the boxes he'd brought for them.

Petterson. "Bane? Really, Blake?"

Chambers. "Seriously, Dude? Did you guys know each other before yesterday or what?"

Faisal. "How long has this been going on, My Friend?"

And of course Baxter asking if he could have a strawberry because the man always thought of his stomach first.

"I brought you donuts. Only melons slices are available to you guys." Blake withdrew one of the stems so that he could eat one of the strawberry roses just to make a point. "And I'm not dating Bane. He's just…courting me. And trying to make me eat healthy food. Proof of how evil he is, I know."

This of course started the familiar debate of who had the worse eating habits, Blake, Baxter, or Officer Wilks.

Angling the basket so that the 'flower' he'd removed wasn't obvious while they did that, Blake pulled out his phone to take a picture of it to send to his brother, after taking a minute to come up with a caption that wouldn't cause his little brother ulcers.

That taken care of Blake went to work on his next 'flower', eating it all before tuning in to the fact that his fellow cops had changed their topic of conversation, the discussion now revolving around bets about how long it would be before Blake ended up in Bane's bed.

It seemed no one thought he could resist for long.

"Gee, thanks, Guys. You do remember he's a criminal mastermind, right?"

The looks they aimed in his direction made it clear that they knew that that would only sweeten the pot for him, so to speak.

"Has crime taken a holiday? Do none of you have work to do? Because if not I would be HAPPY to find you all something to do besides stand around with donut crumbs all over you."

Deserting him like rats aboard a sinking ship, Blake watched the others all run for their respective desks to start looking busy while his father walked through the lines of desk to reach him. The head of their division was a legend among the cops and universally liked and respected as a man besides. And just like him the majority of the cops all wanted to live up to the standard Lieutenant Shin Blake set, which meant they all wanted to impress him.

Pulling another 'flower' from his basket, this one mainly pineapple, Blake held it out to the older man while wearing his most adorable, 'gotta love me' look. The man loved pineapple.

Not that it or the bribe worked, but his father was amused as he accepted the flower and took a bite of ones of its petals. "Something you wish to tell me, My Son?"

Smart man, his father. "The man's got style."

"So it would appear." His father jerked his head in the direction of the gift. "Clever of him, even if you would have preferred chocolates."

"He says I eat too much junk." Something his father stated frequently too. "There's a Krispy Kreme donut there for you too, by the way, since we're on the topic of junk food."

"I knew you were my favorite."

"At least until the next time technology hates you." Blake agreed with a grin, well aware that his father loved him and his brother equally.

Softness in his eyes, Shin lifted a hand to run it lovingly through Blake's hair. "Be careful, My Son. Very careful."

"I'll do my best."

The sound his father made then suggested that he wasn't sure his eldest son's best would be good enough in this case.

)

Sitting back in his leather chair, custom made to fit someone of his size, Bane considered the images on his laptop's screen critically. He would only buy after examining the art in person, to insure that it lived up to its image, but he wished to acquaint himself with the various pieces of stained glass in order to narrow down his choices. A worthy second gift, he thought, to woe his stubborn little bird. Though he had yet to decide whether he wished to continue with the flowers theme, or perhaps choose one featuring birds instead. Though thus far robins didn't seem a popular artistic choice.

According to his spies Robin had eaten all but the melon pieces of his first gift, which was good, but his bird had not come to him either. So he must make his next lure more alluring without feeding into the man's abysmal eating habits.

A knock on his door.

Glancing up Bane called over for whoever it was to enter, knowing that no one got passed Barsad or his assistant without permission.

And it was the latter who came walking into his room, but it was what Barsad was holding that had Bane's full attention.

Barsad was holding a teddy bear, as large as the man's chest. And it was wearing…a Gotham City Police Officer uniform.

There was a very unusual amount of amusement in Barsad's voice when he came to a stop in front of Bane's desk. "Your cop has an interesting sense of humor. The message states that this is for you to cuddle with, as he cannot."

Staring at the bear being held out to him, Bane took it out of reflex as he tried to wrap his mind around such a gift, the card Barsad then handed over to him confirming Robin's message.

There was no way Robin could know about Osito, the teddy bear that had been his only friend when he'd been a child. Osito had been the one thing that he'd kept with him always, and still had locked away with his greatest and most prized possessions. And yet…

Stroking fingers over the soft fur, Bane wasn't aware that he was smiling until Barsad pointed it out to him.

"It is rare for you to smile so."

"He is a most unusual man, Robin Blake."

Dismissing Barsad for the time being, he had work to do, Bane settling back in his seat to contemplate his present with the bear in his lap. He doubted it would stay in place if he set it on his desk, and it wasn't a problem to hold it with one arm around its waist while he retrieved his phone with his other hand.

With quick but careful swipes of his fingers, they really were too big for the device's features, Bane brought up the message he'd received in response to his first gift.

'I bet you'd be tastier, but since we must play nice thanks for the juicy alternative. Robin.'

His little bird did love to tease, which was something Bane had no previous experience with. None had ever dared. Which was why he hadn't responded, and why he now hesitated over what to say to the man in response to this very unexpected and…possibly very suggestive 'gift'.

And refusing to remain indecisive, Bane accessed Robin's number to call him.

"Lieutenant Blake. Would you like to report a crime, Mr. Bane?"

Even just the sound of his voice, it felt like a stroke down Bane's back.

"I called to thank you for the unusual gift. Is there a reason you thought I would need a teddy bear?"

"Doesn't everyone love something to cuddle with at night?"

"I don't cuddle."

"Then you've been sleeping with the wrong people. Not to mention it's a good thing that we aren't having sex, as I'm definitely the cuddling type. Though after having sex with me I'm sure I could change your mind on the subject."

"Come to me tonight, and we can test your theory."

"I'd ask what you'd do to me if I said yes, but I'm working with Baxter at the moment, and he's eavesdropping. Plus it's one thing for me to tempt you, and another thing for you to return the favor. I might not be able to resist."

Freezing for a moment, Bane's mind struggled with the idea that he was being asked to…talk dirty, was the American term for it, he believed. Another thing he was not in the habit of doing when not actually having sex. He wouldn't know where to begin.

The sound of rich, seductive laughter sang in his ears.

"Are you blushing right now?"

"I do not blush."

"Baxter is blushing right now. He only likes to talk and hear about heterosexual sex. You like girls as well, right? Wanna compare stories with him?"

"While you prefer only men. And no, I don't wish to speak to this Baxter person."

"That I do and who could blame you on the latter. Baxter here isn't my type, so he's safe from my potent wiles too. Aren't you, Baxter?" A pause. "I'd repeat what he had to say about that, but I was raised not to use certain words in mixed company. Not to mention I'd prefer I didn't have to deal with irate parents."

"Parents?"

"Yeah. We're currently in the park, waiting for the M.E. to arrive. Baxter's case originally, but there's similarities between this body and another I was assigned to last month, so he called me in. Now we just gotta wait and see." A moment's pause. "So what are you wearing?"

In the background he heard a male voice yell 'JESUS, BLAKE!'

Blake laughed again.

"Okay, okay. Don't make your head explode." A snort of amusement. "He doesn't approve of me flirting with you."

"Are they giving you problems at work?"

"If you were worried about that you shouldn't have sent your present to my bullpen."

"There was no point in hiding my intentions." And there wasn't. Bane had gotten enough sense of who Robin Blake was to know that the man's earlier actions and words made it clear that there would be no sneaking around. Between the two of them Bane didn't doubt that they could hide their interactions with each other from the incompetent at best IAB or the press, but Blake wasn't that man. He would have tolerated it, to have the cop in his bed, but Robin was no one's dirty secret.

"Well you've certainly given them something to talk about. And hold on a second." Background noise hinted at another conversation, but Bane couldn't make out the words. And then Blake's voice came back over the phone. "Sorry, Sweetie, but I'm going to have to hang up now. Duty calls."

"Sweetie?"

"Would you prefer Darling? Buttercup? Perhaps Baby?"

"Bane."

Another laugh, followed by Robin's 'Bye, Gorgeous'. And then Robin ended the call before Bane could say more on the subject of pet or nicknames. Neither of which he would answer to.

Setting aside the phone, Bane glared at it for a minute before remember that he was sitting there with the teddy bear still sitting in his lap.

….

)

And so the tone was set for their 'courtship', so to speak. Bane's next gift was stained glass as planned, shaped in a kaleidoscope made up of different colored feathers. Upon delivery he received a text from Robin asking if this was his way of saying he liked feathers with his foreplay, which he opted to ignore since his bird did not need any more encouragement to tease. Two days later a silk blue tie and hammered silver cufflinks were delivered to his office for him, the former matching his eyes according to his assistant. Or at least that's what she'd blurted out before paling enough that her eyes had stood out as well. The tie had come wrapped around a card stating that it was for work purposes only, which Bane had rolled his eyes over even as visions of tying the other man up with the tie remained constant in his thoughts. His return gift was an exquisite chess set hand crafted from poplar and ipwich pine, as he loved the game and thought that there was no way for Robin to twist that.

Naturally the cop found a way, asking how he felt about strip chess.

Robin then set him a Go set in return, which Bane looked forward to playing with the man once he managed to capture him as surely as he would take the other man's stones.

An antique book was followed by a handsome calligraphy set, a sky blue silk shirt met with an elegant, chandelier style glass wind chime.

And it was at that point that Bane decided that he'd done enough 'wooing' from afar, rearranging his schedule around so that he could deliver his latest gift in person. He called to make sure that Blake would be in his cop shop when he arrived, the reception he received checking in and making his way through the building not at all unexpected. But no one tried to stop him, which was the main thing as he followed directions to his cop's bullpen. And then he was walking through the doorway, eyes automatically scanning the large room for the correct desk, Bane went very still when he found it.

Eyes narrowing Bane studied the unfamiliar man currently leaning forward, his left hand braced against the desk top while the other…the other waved a box of some sort under Robin's nose in a meant to be enticing manner.

A tattooed, badly dressed, but handsome man who Robin was definitely looking at with fondness written all over his face.


	5. Music is Art

Music is Art

'Music is art, and art is integral part of the human experience.' Anne Frasier

"-highway bloody robbery. That's what this is, Robbie. And it's bleeding disgraceful too, given our long history together." Apparently completely unaware of his impending doom, the Englishman's attention was focused solely on Robin as Bane approached, which suited him just fine. "But fine, if you want to be that way, I'll not only buy you dinner, you opportunistic sod, but I'll make you breakfast tomorrow in bed. AND walk the bloody dog for you besides. Final offer."

"You're going to cook on my bed? How is that an incentive?"

Bane knew enough about English culture to know that the two fingers the man gave Robin was not meant to be a peace sign. Far from it

Grinning despite the fact that he'd just been told to go fuck himself, Robin held out a hand and told the unknown man he had a deal, effectively sealing said man's fate since Bane had no intention of allowing anyone else to touch the cop until he was done with him.

And then Robin proved his superior self-preservation instincts by sitting back and twisting his body in his chair so that he could better meet Bane's gaze. "Hey, Sweetie."

Sweetie?

Having been clued in, the soon to be gone Englishman turned to face in his direction, giving Bane a closer look at the oiled hair, con man grin, and rumpled clothes that said traveler or just out of bed to Bane's discerning eye. Though the man lost his grin completely after a moment to no doubt process the mistake he'd just made, talking his way into Robin's bed.

"Oh fuck a duck."

"Eames, Bane. Bane, Eames."

"Oh fuck no. No, Pet. I know he's your ideal man aside from the whole internationally wanted criminal thing -are you trying to put my darling in an early grave? Does he know?" The Englishman shook his head even as he said it. "No, obviously he doesn't know, or he'd be here asking you if you're taking the piss instead of me. Or plotting his untimely demise." A finger jerk in Bane's direction, followed by a slightly apologetic look. "No offence, but this can only end badly for you on a number of levels."

Still grinning Robin jerked his chin in Eames's direction. "He's my brother's problem, not mine, FYI. And Eames, Arthur does know. That Bane and I aren't dating or 'shagging' as you Brits like to call it."

"Normally I'd trust you with my life, but I know your taste in men too well to believe that, Pet."

The once over Eames gave him made it clear that Bane was Robin's taste.

Which would have gone a long way towards reassuring Bane that the man was not going to be a problem he'd need to remove immediately if not for one little thing.

"Breakfast in bed?"

Bane revised his opinion of the Englishman the moment Eames realized that moments before Bane had been viewing him as a possible rival for Robin's affections. Most men would have paled, stammered, offered up some excuse in a futile attempt to save their own skins. In this case though, Eames's eyes were narrowed and accessing, something protective in his stance now that made Bane think this man would fight a fight he knew he couldn't win for Robin's sake. Bane appreciated loyalty.

"He's bribing me to let him sleep in my guestroom." Robin informed him, when Eames didn't rush to explain himself. "Airport's a mess, no flights going out any time soon from what I've heard, and none of the decent hotels have rooms."

Since he was responsible for the problems at the main Gotham airport, he had a few things coming in that he hadn't wanted anyone to be aware of, Bane knew that to be true. As for the lack of hotels…he knew that there was a massive comic book convention being held this weekend in the city. He'd seen some of the attendees on the news that morning.

"I see."

"I was hoping to stay at Arthur's, but I'm afraid he'd kill me very dead if I entered his sanctum without permission. And he is, alas, not answering his phone at the moment. So-"

"So I'm his second choice."

"All men must come in second to my darling Arthur. He hath decreed it."

Laughing, Robin nodded in absolute agreement.

And as if summoned by the mere idea that he might not be any man's first choice, the sound of music and a woman singing in what Bane recognized as Serbian filled the air before Eames yanked his cellphone out of his pocket, accepted the call, and all but purred out a hello to his 'darling'.

"Well that will keep him out of trouble for a couple minutes."

"So he is your brother's lover?" He'd have Barsad look into him.

"They're complicated. And he's not remotely my type."

He was glad to hear it. "I'll make a note that badly dressed Englishmen who have an appreciation for Serbian music are not your type."

"Serbian-oh. The song. Eames loves Eurovision, and his ringtone for Arthur is 'Molitva's' chorus. It was the 2007 winner. Mine is the opening of 'Mr. Downtown' from the soundtrack for 'That Thing You Do'. In case you were wondering."

"Eurovision?"

"You don't know Eurovision? Oh, Sweetie, you have been…no. Nevermind. Eurovision would make your head explode." Laughing, Blake jerked his head in the direction of the box Bane only now remembered he was carrying. "That for me?"

"Perhaps."

Pushing his chair back Robin got out of his seat and came around his desk, the way he moved his body, it was a pleasure to watch and Bane looked his full as his bird swaggered over to him until they were all but chest to chest. And the look in Robin's eyes when he tilted his head back to meet his stare…well that look packed as much punch as his bird no doubt did in a fight.

"What's in the box?"

"It's heavy."

Curiosity lighting up his bird's eyes, Robin moved to the side and motioned towards his desk.

Walking over and setting the box down beside the chocolate Eames had been using to bribe Robin with moments before, Bane watched as Robin hurried over to rip off the tape on the top, Eames wandering over as he continued to talk to Arthur about someone named Ariadne, all the while eyeing the new box with just as much interest as Robin was.

Pulling out the packing peanuts, and sending them flying out behind him like he was a dog digging for a bone, Robin made a sound of delight as he reached in and…

"I'm not going to be able to lift this, am I?"

"I'll get it. You talk to Arthur." Eames offered the phone to Robin.

"You're not stronger than me. Bane will get it for me. No touchie."

Eames looked insulted. "I am as strong as you. Stronger than you."

Waving that away while telling his brother over the phone what was going on, Robin motioned for Bane to retrieve his present for him.

Reaching into the box Bane grasped the sculpted metal base of the lamp and brought it up and out of the box, all the while keeping his focus on Robin to catch ever moment of the other man's reaction. Insiders had told him that the stained glass gift had been the biggest hit, and this…he hoped would get a similar reaction.

And Robin's eyes went wide with delight, the grin that split his face bringing out those dimples as the cop immediately reached out to touch even before Bane had set it down on the desk's surface. The contemporary art deco lamp was shaped like a tree, a wisteria to be exact, and Bane had decided on it the moment he'd spotted it.

"It's gorgeous."

"You do have excellent taste for a criminal mastermind." Eames agreed.

"Hold on one sec. I'll send you a pic." Removing the phone from his ear Robin took a picture of the gift and then presumably sent it to his twin before handing it over to Eames, telling him to talk to Arthur so that he could admire his present.

Which he did, very thoroughly, before stepping away from it to press his lips against Bane's in a friendly kiss that he didn't see coming. And which ended before he had a chance to deepen the kiss, or even get a real taste of Robin's mouth.

"Thank you. I love it."

"Robin."

)

If there was one thing that could be said about his sorta stepmother-no, scratch that, there was a LOT of things he could say about Captain Lara Harper, Blake corrected in his head, but one of the things you could say was that she had horrible timing. Or at least she did in his case. Particularly on those occasions when she came to speak to him not as one cop to another, but as someone who would have been his stepmother if she hadn't dumped his father before he and Arthur had come to Gotham.

The fact that she was using his first name, instead of his rank and last, meant that unfortunately this was going to be one of those latter situations.

"Captain Harper. What can I do for you?"

"You can start by explaining what Mr. Bane and Mr. Eames are doing here?" Her arms crossed in front of her, a gesture she made often in Blake's presence, his father's ex-wife gave them all the cop look that went with her outfit. Pants, shirt, and jacket to hide her sidearm. She wanted to be seen as one of the guys and heaven help the person stupid enough to suggest she wasn't.

Even Eames was better dressed than she was. Some of the time.

"I was just leaving." Eames volunteered immediately, knowing her well enough to be wary as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Robin was just going to give me the spare key to Arthur's place."

Taking the hint and pity on the man, who could blame him, Robin reached into his own pocket, pulled out his keys, and removing the one Eames needed tossed it at him. "Walk Buffy when you get there."

"Ta. And I'll walk Mr. Bane out as well." Eames shot a look at Bane that Robin immediately reinforced, hopefully conveying to the man that Bane staying would not be a good thing for him. Not that he didn't think Bane could handle going toe to toe with Harper, he did, but nothing good came of pissing her off.

Thankfully Bane got the message and nodded. "Until next time, Lieutenant."

"I'll look forward to it."

Especially since that brief taste of his man-Bane, had left him wanting more.

Watching the two leave together after saying goodbye to both of them, Blake couldn't help but think that he should be worried about them being together unsupervised before turning his attention back to the scowling captain in front of him.

"Apologies, Sir. What can I do for you?"

"You're accepting gifts from an internationally renowned crime boss?"

"No. I'm accepting gifts from an internationally known businessman who is believed to have criminal ties and yet has never once been successful charged with a crime in any of those countries. And I'm giving him stuff in return too, just for clarification. He's not my sugar daddy, though he does have a hell of a lot more money than I do." Which was appealing as hell, actually, since it meant he didn't have to wonder if it was his family's money or connections that interested Bane.

"Robin."

"Sir."

"Think of your father before you do something stupid."

There were many things he would tolerate from her, and not just because she outranked him, but when it came to his father and her using him to keep him in line…no. "Respectfully, Sir, you don't want to bring him into this. And you can't tell me who to date. Which I'm not even doing so..."

"I'm not just saying this because of Shin. I don't want anything to happen to you either." A sad, rueful smile curved her lips. "But I know that look in your eye. It's the same one he gets when someone tells him he can't do something, and he decides to do it just to make a point. So I'll leave it…but you know that IAB is looking into you even harder now, right?"

Since she was his superior Blake settled for a 'duh' look.

"Just like your father." And there was a world of complicated emotion in every syllable of that sentence before she turned and started to walk away, pausing at his desk to look at the lamp.

"Your grandfather is going to want to steal that from you."

"He totally is."

A more real smile this time as she looked back at him. "And pick up those packing peanuts you sent flying all over the place. The cleaners have enough to worry about around here."

And then off she went, leaving Blake to muse that as fun as it had been to send said packing peanuts flying, he was sorta regretting it now.

)

The information his people had dug up on Tom Eames thus far suggested that the art restorer slash forger was not someone Bane needed to worry about when it came to Robin's affections. While his conversation with the man on the way out of the cop shop had been brief, Bane's gut said the Englishman's attentions were focused solely on the other Blake twin. Complicated as that relationship apparently was. Eames had even asked him about the other gifts he'd given Robin, with a look in his eyes that made Bane think Eames was already planning how to go about wooing his own Blake with presents.

Since he was no longer plotting the man's removal from his city Bane had wished him well in his endeavor.

It was interesting that Eames's main profession was traveling the world restoring paintings and other words of art, but that the man also had a side business forging them as well. Which obviously Robin's brother would have to know about, and through him…Robin? And yet the man was treated like a friend and invited within the family compound, so to speak. Had spoken with affection and knowledge about how Robin's grandfather was going to covet that lamp, and how it just figured that Harper had waited until her ex wasn't in the building to talk to Robin about Bane.

The two had a very complicated relationship it seemed.

Setting aside the weights he'd been using when his phone went off, Bane picked it up to check the number, smiling when he saw the name on his screen.

"Lieutenant Blake."

"Mr. Bane."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well I thought I would thank you again for the gift, especially since I need to know where you got it. My brother forwarded the picture of it to my father and grandfather, and grandfather wants one just like it."

"I'll send the information to you." Briefly he considered just gifting the man in question with the lamp, but Bane's instincts told him that that would harm rather than help his chances. "And what does your father think of the gift?"

"He thinks you're trouble. But trouble with excellent taste."

"And your stepmother?"

"Technically not my stepmother. And she doesn't like you. But she really doesn't like anyone."

"You?"

A thoughtful pause. "We're complicated. She's not my mother, we never had that relationship, but she's always taken a special interest in me because of my father. Who she, in her stunted, wrongheaded way, loves. Ergo we're important to her because we're important to him. Plus according to her I need more adult supervision than my father gives me. It used to drive her nuts that we'd hang out at the station."

"Most would agree that children do not belong in such a place."

"We weren't your average kids."

"Very true. And why is that?" Barsad still labored in vain to uncover the truth about the first twelve years of the twins' lives, which was something that irked the man to no end. For himself, it only intrigued Bane that much more.

"Born that way, I suppose. We've never been the sort to settle for being average. And I knew I was going to be a cop."

"And why is that? You don't need to work, and if you wanted to there are would be countless professions you might pursue that would be more financially rewarding, not to mention much less frustrating and ultimately pointless."

"Pointless?"

"This is Gotham City. Crime flourishes here as it does nowhere else in this continent. Remove one criminal and five more takes his or her place."

"That bad, huh? Guess I'll just have to work that much harder than. Care to throw any names my way?"

"The names I could throw your way are not men I wish you to have an acquaintance with." A moment's pause for emphasis. "And given the time, shouldn't you be out having dinner with your brother's complication?"

"Obviously no one's ever taught you how to smoothly change a topic. And actually Eames is currently giving Buffy a bath." A sound of exasperation. "Can't take your eyes off her for a second, which he unfortunately forgot since he walked her last. Not that I'm sorry about that since now I don't have to give her one later. I'm manning the grill at the moment since we both like our steaks well done."

"You never did tell me how you ended up with a dog named Buffy."

"Long term client of my grandfather's passed away, left him the dog, her stuff, and money for upkeep in her will. We tried to change her name and her taste in pink, believe me we tried, but she won't answer to anything else. And heaven help us if we don't dress her up properly."

"Dress her up?"

"Buffy loves her bandanas. And outfits for special occasions. You'll see."

"Will I?"

"At this point I don't doubt it. Especially since I called to ask you to dinner."


	6. Art Speaks

Art Speaks

'Art speaks where words are unable to explain.' Threadless Artist Mathiole

Blake had no problems remembering his first official homicide. The victim had been a drug dealer by the name of Jerry Knickson, street name Fuzz. He'd been found sliced and diced to pieces in an alleyway, a drug deal gone wrong. The officer he'd been patrolling with when they'd arrived on scene had been sick as a dog over that body as he recalled. He'd only just been able to wrench the rookie to the side before the kid heaved the contents of his stomach all over the victim's torso. It had been a close call though, and Blake hadn't been surprised in the least to hear that the kid had washed out a few months later.

The lieutenant who'd come to take over the scene had advised the rookie to go home to his girlfriend and drown it out with sex. That, the older man had told them both, was the best way to handle it since booze and bottling it up would end them and their careers that much faster.

Naturally he'd shrugged that advice off. He'd been a cocky little son of a bitch and Blake knew he'd thought less of both men for their reactions and responses. A cop was supposed to be tougher than that, in his younger self's opinion, and if they couldn't handle it they needed to grow a set or find another profession.

Of course he and his brother had been born into a world full of violence, death, and the destruction of human life. And while his life had gotten infinitely better since his so called 'childhood', and he had felt some pity for the twenty something man who'd lost his life, Blake's stomach had remained solid, his head and focus clear. He hadn't needed to blot out what he'd seen that night. He'd seen worse.

Now fastforward nearly a decade and Blake was forced to acknowledge with brutal self-honesty that if he didn't do something to block out what he'd seen two hours before he'd probably do something really unadvised with lasting consequences. It was just one of those cases.

The Boondocks were a gang on the rise. Word on the street was that the only way in was to either prove yourself in battle by surviving a fight against their best enforcers or by providing them with something they really wanted.

Someone like seventeen year old Scott Dexter hadn't had the muscle or the skill to stand even a chance in hell against one trained street fighter, much less four or five of them. He also hadn't had the connections or money to secure drugs, weapons, or even a valuable piece of information about anything worth passing along to them. In other words he'd had nothing to offer and should have been beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead for even approaching the Boondocks with the suggestion he might be allowed to join their ranks. And he would have been if not for one Elise Wilks, age sixteen, who up until her death had been a student at the same school as Dexter.

Elise was now dead and being processed at the morgue because before she'd been repeatedly raped, beaten, and then choked to death she'd borne an uncanny resemblance to Scarlett Johansson. And unfortunately for her the leader of the Boondocks was known to be a big fan of that particular actress. Enough of a fan that when Dexter had shown up with the girl he'd drugged and kidnapped to try and use her to bargain his way into the gang he'd taken a bullet to the head rather than being beaten to death for his insolence.

Word of what had gone done had leaked onto the streets, it always did eventually, and someone had sent an anonymous email to the police telling them what he or she knew about the girl's fate. Including where what was left of Elise Wilks had been tossed, like garbage, down a garbage shoot in a long abandoned apartment building with Dexter.

At least someone had cared enough, had been decent enough to believe the girl deserved better than that as her final resting place.

Now he had to get justice for her. Or at least try to.

First though, he had to see her parents and tell them their little girl wasn't coming home to them.

)

Clean sweat ran down his body, the smell of it thick in the air as Bane's muscles flexed and trembled ever so slightly. But the burn of muscles pushed to their limit soothed Bane as much as the mindless repetition of the weights he lifted above his head in his home gym. He worked out every night, always demanding that much more of his body as he found new ways to make himself stronger. A faster, stronger, more deadly human weapon. He would never again be weak. He'd choose death first.

When the phone he kept close went off it was a simple matter to set the set of weights back in place and then check to see who the call was coming from. In this case it was very much someone Bane wanted to talk to so he accepted the call while reaching for the ear piece that would allow him to talk to his bird and finish up his workout at the same time.

"Hello, Robin."

"Hi."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Bane asked as he settled back into place, reaching for the weights once more.

"A friend of mine was able to get me tickets to a play next Saturday night. Available?"

Instinct had Bane ignoring that question in favor of asking the cop if he was all right. Why he wasn't sure exactly, but his instincts said something was wrong with Robin.

"Well my plan for the evening was to get drunk off my ass with Eames while watching bad television, only my grandfather found me first. So he beat the crap out of me and now I'm soaking in the tub with a really nice glass of wine. Fuck I hurt everywhere."

"He did what?"

"Calm down, Sexy. Kicking my ass was the lesser of the two evils. And it worked. I'm not going to do anything stupid. Even the thought of moving hurts."

Setting the weights once again in place, Bane sat up with blood in his eyes. "Explain."

"Crap day at work. Desensitized isn't the right word, but it's rare that this city throws something at me that I can't handle. What one human being can do to another…well we know, don't we? We expect it at this point. But every once in a while a case will come along and I need a bit of…numbing? Sex, booze or beating the shit out of something or someone are usually the best ways to do that. And I was tempted to call and ask you to fuck my brains out, so don't feel left out. But I was able to talk myself out of that one. Getting drunk with Eames would have costed less in the long run."

A groan came through clearly. "I'm trying to tell myself that this is better than the hangover."

"Your grandfather recognized your distress and forced you into physical combat as an alternative to drinking or sex." He approved of that.

"Exactly. Eames promised to rub me down after the bath."

Bane growled even knowing that that was the reaction Blake wanted from him.

The laughter in Robin's voice proved it. "Purely medicinal, I assure you. Arthur would have his balls for next year's Christmas tree otherwise."

"Interesting visual."

"It is, isn't it? So what are you up to, Sexy? Making more billions? Doing a 'Pinky and the Brain'?"

"A what?"

"'Pinky and the Brain'. The cartoon?" Blake's voice went oddly squeaky for a moment. "What are we going to do tonight, Brain?" A deeper voice. "The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!"

Bane could enjoy the sound of Blake's laughter, even if it was probably at his expense.

"Do you need me to sing you the theme song? It's pretty catchy." Blake started humming through the phone, the tune irritating rather than 'catchy' in Bane's opinion.

"I have no interest in ruling the world. It's a pointless endeavor."

"Exactly. I knew you weren't just a pretty face. So what are you doing?"

"I was lifting weights when you called."

"Oh man. Seriously? Are you sweaty and half naked? Oh, and lying on a bench with the bar above your head that I could hold onto while-nevermind. Though at least I'm already naked. That does make jerking off while imagining what you look like now a LOT easier."

Intellectually he'd know that Robin was in the tub. Robin had said as much earlier in the conversation. But how Bane was picturing it. Imagining the other man sprawled out in the tub, on display in all his naked glory, with those long, elegant fingers wrapped around his aroused cock as he jerked himself off to thoughts of the two of them having sex on the very bench Bane was sitting on.

"Fuck."

A husky chuckle came through the phone. As well as the sound of a cap being popped open?

"Such language, Mr. Bane. Really."

"You are not jerking yourself off over the phone."

"Oh but I most certainly am." Robin all but purred out the words, which Bane didn't doubt for a second was deliberate on the other man's part. "Going nice and easy too, which isn't normally my style but…I am trying not to move too much. But if you're worried, I just added some nice bath oil that's making the glide…very nice."

"You aren't so big that I can't turn you over my knee."

"It would take a hell of a man to get me to stay still for that."

"When the time comes you'll stay where I put you and like it."

"It'll be my pleasure to see you try-rah." A telling hitch of breath that came through over the phone. "Mhmmm. And if you don't want me jerking off, Bane…how about I put my fingers in my ass instead? I'll have to turn onto my side, and it'll hurt a bit, but a little pain isn't always a bad thing. Not that I'd insult you by suggesting that a few of my fingers can equal what you're packing in your gym shorts. Are you wearing gym shorts, Bane?"

Looking down at the simple black shorts in question, which were now tented, Bane cursed again.

Then the sound of something being sent to his phone had Bane turning his attention to the cell phone on the table just as Robin informed him that he'd sent him a present.

Awareness was running up his spine even before he accessed the picture, Bane's attention immediately caught and held by the image of Robin's wet abs, bubbles clinging to the man's narrow chest and the legs sprawled open to act as a frame for the hand fisted around Robin's just visible cock.

The attachment heading was 'I showed you mine. Show me yours.'

Son of a bitch

Setting the phone aside Bane forced his voice to remain cool as he stated that Robin was going to regret teasing him this way when he saw him next.

"Promises, promises. So for now…talk to me. I'm close."

"Robin?"

"Bane. Please?" Robin drew out the please in a way guaranteed to make Bane's shudder.

Bane had never had phone sex before. He'd never seen the point. But he couldn't put his hands on his naughty bird right now. And right now, as much as Robin deserved to be left hanging, Bane wanted to be the cause of Robin's orgasm. Wanted to know that every gasp and groan was for him. Wanted to hear Robin call out his name when he came.

"I'm going to tie your wrists to my headboard." Bane told him as he undid the strings keeping the gym shorts around his waist. "Then I'm going to straddle your waist and just watch you. I'll make you squirm and strain under me, Little Bird, while you demand to be touched and fucked. But I won't. I'll make you beg for me, and even then I'll just touch you with my fingers, mapping out every inch of your body right up until I lean forward and sink my teeth into the spot where your lovely throat meets your shoulder. Then I'll work the skin there until I'm satisfied that there will be a mark there for days. Hot and throbbing and-"

The sound of his name echoing off tiled walls was music to Bane's ears.

)

Fuck but he'd needed that. He was going to hurt soon enough, no question there, but right now Blake was boneless and riding an excellent orgasm high. Bane wasn't talking to him anymore though, which was a shame. Especially since he had a policy of always returning the favor. And Bane was still on the line too. He could hear his harsh breathing through the ear piece.

And it was a good thing he was using an ear piece, or his cell would have ended up in the tub with him earlier. But back to the man he wanted to get his hands on.

"So, Bane. Want me to tell you what I'd do to you if I had you tied to MY headboard? Or better yet…want me to tell you what I'd do if I was there right now with you? What I'd do if I could order you to wrap your fingers around that steel bar above your head. I'd tell you to keep them there, you know. And if you did, if you're good for me and do exactly what I say, Bane…well then I'd pull your shorts down and blow you."

The way Bane said his name had Blake smiling knowingly.

"Would you be good for me, Bane? Would you keep your hands where I told you to keep them?"

"As long as it suited me to do so."

Big surprise there.

"What if I let you tell me what to do? Like exactly how you wanted me to put my mouth on your pretty cock. How maybe you want me to lick you right up like a lollipop? Or trace my tongue along every vein just to tease you a little. Get a taste for you. Do you like to be teased, Bane? Or would you prefer to find out for yourself just how deep I can take you into my smart mouth? Hell, if you asked me really, really nicely, and were a very good boy, I might even let you fuck my mouth. How's that sound?"

Bane's voice was definitely on the strained side when he spoke, though Blake was willing to give him props for trying to hide it. "I am not one of your boys that you can wrap around your finger so easily."

"I just said I'd be happy to wrap my mouth and tongue around your cock, Bane. Or are you only happy if I promise to wrap my legs around your waist while you fuck me? If I can manage it. My legs are long, but I'm not quite sure they're up to that. I might need those big, strong hands of yours on my ass to keep me in place."

"Tomorrow you are coming home with me. And then I will make you very sorry you decided to tease me this way."

"Sorry, but I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. Gang members to sweat, clues to gather, and then Eames and I are going to the movies. A bribe for the massage he's promised me. Which reminds me I should text him that I haven't drowned in here soon. He'll be coming back to check on me. Be a dear and jack off for me? I bet you sound sexy as hell when you come. Then I'll text Eames."

"Do not bring up another man now."

He'd already made it clear that he and Eames weren't interested in having sex with each other. And while he could remind Bane of that fact, well an argument would ruin the mood. He'd already gotten off, yeah, but Blake also really, really wanted to hear Bane come for him.

"Come for me, Bane. Please."

The pause was just long enough for Blake to straighten up with the intention of grabbing his phone from the pile of towels he'd dropped it on earlier.

"I will come. But you don't get to hear it. Not until it's in person."

The bastard hung on him.

Jaw dropping a little, Blake retrieved the phone to confirm the fact that Bane had deliberately hung up on him. Which he had.

"Why you…"

Shaking his head, he should have seen that coming, Blake blew out a breath and then tossed the phone back onto the towels, followed by his ear piece.

If Bane called back he wasn't answering. It would serve him right.

Belatedly remembering that he'd meant to text Eames so that the Englishman would get over his worry that he'd seize up and somehow drown in the tub on his watch, Blake considered and discarded the idea of reaching for the phone again. Or staying in the tub for that matter. Between the orgasm and the bath water he was about as relaxed as he was going to get. Might as well get out of the water, get his pajama bottoms on, and then track Eames down for the massage he'd promised him.

As if summoned, a knock came at the door as Blake reached for the sides of the tub.

"Knock, knock!"

Willing to be amused Blake rolled his eyes as he asked who was there.

"You know."

"You know who?"

"Really, Blake? I would have thought you had the balls to call him by his real name."

Laughing, Blake called Eames a wanker as he got to his feet. Slowly and carefully, just to be on the safe side. "I'm just trying to avoid the Snatchers!"

"So I take it you're still alive then?"

"Yup. Pretty sure. Be out in a minute."

"Ta."


	7. In A Room

Note: In this story Bane and Talia's relationship will be based more on the comics rather than the movie. I wanted to do at least one story of this pairing where I didn't have to deal with her lol.

In A Room

"In a room full of art I'd still stare at you." Anon (to the best of my knowledge)

He was still a little sore the next day, he'd have been shocked if that hadn't been the case, but overall Blake figured that he was moving pretty good considering that his grandfather had completely owned him the night before. No surprise there. No one could beat the older man and Grandfather had only pulled his kicks and punches when they were younger. These days Grandfather showed no mercy. Which was fine since he'd hate it more if the older man went easy on him. Though getting your ass handed to you was never fun, even if it was done out of love.

But the bath and massage from last night had helped, and the food Eames had made him for breakfast had been ten times better than whatever he would have possibly whipped up for himself if he'd bothered. So yeah, he was ready mentally to face whatever there was face as he sought justice for Elise and his other cases. And walked into his cop shop with a smile on his face.

A smile that slipped off said face when he was greeted by the sight of everyone in his bullpen turning to look at him with the weirdest variety of expressions on their faces. This did not bode well for his morning at all.

"Shit. What did he give me this time?"

Chamber's outright laughed at him. "Oh you're going to appreciate this gift, Blakie."

Blake debated reminding Chambers yet again not to call him Blakie. It was even worse than being called Robin Hood. But he had more important things to worry about it seemed.

"It's only an awesome present if they don't recant and the system doesn't fuck things up somehow." Petterson argued from his cluttered and barely visible desk. Blake had never been able to figure out how the man ever found anything, but he did, somehow. It would drive him nuts.

"But it's the thought that counts." Was Chamber's snarky response as he lobbed a crumpled ball of paper onto Petterson's desk before grinning in Blake's direction rather evilly. "And your presents are in holding. All eight of them. He didn't bother to wrap them, so your parents are taking care of wrapping them up for you."

Eyebrows rising, Blake tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Bane had sent him eight 'presents' who needed to be put into cells. He'd have bet serious money that Bane would never consider crossing that line seeing as the underworld wouldn't want to do business with him once word got out. And word always got out. So why would Bane…oh.

"Are these 'presents' members of the Boondocks?"

Baxter saw his moment to jump into the conversation, so of course he did. "They are. Showed up this morning to turn themselves in like good little gangbangers. Your sorta stepmother interviewed the leader and got his full confession on record already from what I heard through the grapevine. Oh, and your dad took two others that I know about. The others are just waiting to talk to you or one of them at this point. Captain didn't want to wait in case they changed their minds about confessing."

It had to be asked. "What kind of condition are they in?"

"Unharmed as far as we know. Though scared out of their fucking wits, that's for damn sure. Or as much wits as they possess between them, I mean."

Bane wasn't the type to turn on his own kind, but the man did have certain well known standards. So while the man probably had intended the gangbangers to be 'presents', Bane had most likely done it for Elise Wilks too. Women, particularly the young and innocent, were whispered to be safe from Bane and his men. Anyone who attempted to cause them harm within Bane's territory was said to meet a very bad end. Not that there was ever anything left behind to confirm the rumors.

"The preliminary reports are on your desk."

Acknowledging Baxter's statement with a jerk of his head Blake walked over to the desk in question and picked up the folder someone had left there for him. Eyes scanning each page in turn Blake didn't see anything that he needed to be concerned about or hadn't already surmised himself from the scene and his own evaluation of the bodies. Confirmation was always good though. And if the fuckers currently in lockup entered guilty pleas loads of evidence wouldn't be needed anyway. Not that he was going to count his chickens before they hatched. And who'd come up with that stupid phrase anyway?

"Robin."

Glancing up and over Blake smiled at his father. "Hey."

"They updated you?"

"Yup. So they're all being nice, honest gangbangers?"

"More like scared shitless. You'd think the alternative was being tied to chairs and then fed to rats."

"Nah. Bane doesn't strike me as the creative death sort. I'd imagine if he wanted you dead it would be a quick execution. Bullet to the head or knife to the heart would be my first guesses. Throat slitting would be too messy. Though he does have the upper body strength to snap someone's neck. I could see that too." Blake reflected on that for a moment, debating the possibilities. "Well whatever his preferred method is, it would be followed by a disposal method guaranteed to keep you undiscovered unless he wants you found to make a statement." Blake mentally shuddered a little at the rat idea though. He hated the fucking things with a passion.

"And yet you're dating him, My Son."

"An actual, proper date has yet to happen."

The look he got in return made it clear his father knew he was splitting hairs with that reasoning. And he so was. He and Bane were just a car crash waiting to happen, really. It was going to be fast, memorable, and more than likely painful to some degree. But it was going to happen. When was really the only question at this point.

"You will be careful. Or I'll call Arthur."

"Eames already tattled."

"Not enough, or your brother would be here already." And leaving it at that Shin changed the subject to the fact that there were still gang members to interview if Blake was ready to join them.

"She left a couple for me? That's surprising."

"She wanted to help."

Some people would think that no, helping had nothing to do with it. A lot of cops, particularly the male ones, liked to think and say that Lara Harper had reached the rank of captain by taking undeserved credit for solving big cases. The really stupid ones whispered that she might have done some of her climbing on her back as well, but they only did that once. Word always got around and either she, his father, or Blake himself insured they never made that mistake again. She might be his father's ex-wife, and occasional huge thorn in his side, but Blake would allow no one to show her that sort of disrespect.

As for the whole taking credit for cases thing…well that was somewhat of a grey area in the long memory of the GCP.

Every cop in the city knew that she'd ultimately been the one to bring an end to the White Dragon syndicate. She'd been the arresting officer in charge of the raids, the arrests, and had brought forth the evidence that had allowed them to dismantle the brutal Chinese gang so quickly and efficiently that there'd been no chance for its revival afterwards. She'd been the one hounded and interviewed by the press afterwards, and the majority of the accolades and commendations had come her way.

However…the case had been Lieutenant Shin Blake's originally. He'd been working for months to take them down and had been suspended by his corrupt captain less than two weeks before the raids. He'd been getting too close to shutting them down so the recently appointed head of the syndicate had ordered him off the case. As it was Blake's father likely would have been killed if not for his father's protection through Saito. Instead he'd been suspended and the case passed over to his recent ex-wife. Their shared captain hadn't thought she'd get anywhere even with her ex's work to piggyback off of. But the White Dragon was in flux thanks to the recent death of the leader who'd ruled them with an iron fist for decades, and his descendants were all fighting for their piece of the pie and not being as careful or cautious as they should have been. Particularly when it came to the eldest son who was now in charge.

Ergo when two mysterious flash drives containing everything a law enforcement officer might want to know about the White Dragon were delivered to Harper's apartment, confirming a great deal of her ex's own evidence and beliefs…well it had spelled the end of the syndicate once and for all.

Blake knew that particular case inside and out. Intimately.

And since he knew that the woman in question lived for her work and work alone Blake believed she was technically interfering with his case because she simply wanted to see justice done. Because at the end of the day that was what mattered to her most.

So he slid the paperwork back into its folder and then tucking it under his arm Blake told his father to lead the way.

)

Bane just barely managed to stop himself from drumming his fingers on the highly polished surface of the conference table while across from him the man currently calling himself Henri Ducard wasted his time. To those in the know Ra's al Ghul had years ago been his mentor, the respect he had for all the man had accomplished in his lifetime the only reason he'd taken this meeting in the first place. Though if nothing else this meeting was illuminating thanks to the presence of the man's daughter, who sat across form him with a blank face that revealed none of her thoughts.

A fairly standard look in Talia al Ghul's case.

Back when they'd both thought he would become the older man's successor Talia's hand in marriage had been part of the deal. A sweetening of the pot for sure, as the woman was as lethal as she was beautiful and intelligent. But he hadn't been what she wanted, she'd told him to his face that she saw him as little more than her father's dog. She'd been far more interested in her father's other one time protégée, who in the end had had no wish in marrying her.

Karma was as much a bitch as she could be at times.

He'd wanted her, that was true, but now he felt nothing to look at her, which was satisfying. As was the thought that soon he'd see the man who'd made him aware of just how insignificant Talia had been to him both now and then. He'd wanted her, but not nearly as much as he wanted Roblin Blake.

And in the long run he was better off having split off from her father's organization to set up his own. The League of Shadows wasn't what it had once been, and Bane didn't see it improving in Talia's hands once her father passed on. Her father was too lost in the past and when Talia was in charge it would go to her head and soon all that power would be wrenched away from her by someone else in the organization.

Today the old man had come to him to ask for his participation in al'Ghul's latest scheme to destroy Wayne Enterprises. A venture Bane had no interest in. While he wouldn't mind sparring in one way or another with al'Ghul's former apprentice he had his own business to take care of. He and Wayne already butted heads in the business world, and thus far he was winning in that arena as the billionaire playboy didn't give his businesses the attention that he should. Until Bruce Wayne became a problem for him, as businessman or Batman, Bane would leave him alone.

Should the man become a problem…then he'd break the Bat and that would be that.

He'd already made that clear to al'Ghul, in three different languages, but the man seemed to think that if he said the same thing using slightly different words eventually Bane would come to heel. Something he hadn't done even when he'd been a part of the man's organization. He was no one's dog.

A glance in the clock's direction confirmed that in less than five minutes the old man's time would be up and Bane could take the meeting he'd been looking forward to all morning.

"Bane. Are you listening?"

"Yes. But no matter how you phrase your request the answer is no. I didn't go to all the trouble of moving here only for you to level the city because of Wayne."

"It's not just Wayne, this whole city needs to be destroyed, Bane."

"Perhaps. But right now it's useful to me."

"He's forgotten our ways, Father. There's no point in arguing with him. He's become just one more part of the problem."

Bane saw no reason to dignify that with a reaction.

"Bane."

"Al'Ghul." Bane countered before the older man could begin again. "Do what you like where Wayne's concerned. I don't care. But mind the damage to this city. There are those in it who, if harmed because of you, I would be forced to show you and the League what happens to my enemies. I will not take the death of my men lightly. Or the loss of power and money. You want us to continue on good terms."

A knock on the door.

"Come."

The door opened to reveal his secretary in the doorway.

"My apologies for interrupting your meeting, Sir, but your next appointment starts in less than two minutes. Do you need me to reschedule or see if he's willing to wait?"

"We're done here. It's never a good idea to keep one of Gotham's finest waiting."

"Problems with the GCP?" Talia asked with a hint of a smirk.

"No more than I can handle." Whatever his little bird might think.

Pushing back his chair Ra's al'Ghul got to his feet, his expression cool and dismissive now that he knew Bane wasn't going to be of any use to him. Typical.

Fair enough.

Pushing back his own chair Bane walked down the length of the table with the other two, always aware of their body language and alert to every move they made.

The two of them reached the door before he did, his secretary politely moving out of their way while continuing to hold the door open for them. Bane waited until both had walked through before following after them into the hallway, his secretary closing the door behind her before excusing herself to go back to her desk.

Following her movements as she walked up the length of hallway Bane's eyes automatically sought the man he knew would be waiting for him there. And there he was. With Barsad.

Eyes narrowing Bane took in the fact that his cop appeared to be showing Barsad something on an iPad. Something that apparently required his second to stand very close to Bane's bird and angle towards him to view. Neither was the other's type from what he knew of them both, but still…he didn't like it.

But he wasn't about to give the al'Ghuls the impression that the cop waiting for him meant anything to him, not now anyway. So Bane looked away and turned his attention to shaking the hand his former leader offered him and doing the same with Talia, though they kept it as brief as possible.

"I'll escort you to the elevator."

"No need. We know the way." And tucking his daughter's arm through his al'Ghul nodded his head in Bane's direction and then turned to walk away from him.

Which suited Bane just fine.

He watched them until the elevator opened and then closed with both inside before Bane turned his attention back to his cop, who had handed the iPad over to Barsad now. Robin appeared to be paying rapt attention to whatever it was they were now discussing.

Walking down the hallway towards them Bane noted that Barsad looked up and over to meet his gaze immediately while Robin's gaze remained focused on the screen. A deliberate move on his bird's part, Bane didn't doubt. He had the feeling very few people in the world could successfully approach the other man without Robin knowing. Which pleased and intrigued him.

"Robin."

A brief glance over. "Mr. Bane."

And then Robin was turning his head and thanking Barsad for his help. With a smile.

"It was no problem. Bane." Barsad inclined his head in Bane's direction and then off he went, which was for the best.

Robin, meanwhile, turned off the iPad and shoved it into the messenger bag he was carrying over one shoulder. Securing the buckle that would keep the bag closed Robin then turned and joined Bane in taking the last couple steps necessary to bring them face to face.

"What were you looking at?"

"On the iPad? Originally a couple crime scene photos. We've been struggling to figure out what the hell was used to make some of the puncture wounds on the body, so I figured why not ask your buddy Barsad while I waited for you. He was showing me the likely culprit. I think he's right."

"Barsad is not my buddy."

"I bet he's the closest thing you have to one."

Technically yes, but encouraging Robin was never a good idea so instead Bane put a possessive hand on Robin's lower back and suggested that they move along to his office to discuss whatever it was he'd come to see him about.

"I could get behind that idea. Or in front of it. Whichever works better for you."


	8. Art Enables Us

Art Enables Us

"Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time." Thomas Merton

Allowing Bane's hand to steer him in the direction of the man's office Blake wondered if it had just been his imagination, or if Bane really had been seeing a hint of green moments before. Probably not, since it wasn't like Bane had any reason to be jealous when all he'd been doing was talking to Barsad about those puncture wounds and the possible causes. But the idea was amusing on a number of levels, not least of which was the fact that Blake was pretty sure that the only reason why Barsad had stopped to speak with him, much less help him, was so that he could get a read on him for Bane's sake. And seriously, if Bane was his type, which he'd made pretty clear was the case, why would Barsad interest him? The man was a pipsqueak in comparison.

But since he was here to play nice Blake held his tongue on the matter and instead complimented Bane on the art he'd chosen for his waiting room. He particularly liked the Van Gogh above his assistant's desk. When had he acquired it?

"Five years ago. Why?"

"No reason. Relax. You look like I'm going to tell you it's a fake. Which it isn't. Though you might want to have someone look at that Rembrandt downstairs in the lobby." Oh the look on Bane's face, Blake thought as he only just kept the smirk off his face.

He had to look away so that he could state that while it must have been an original when Bane had purchased it, as he didn't doubt that the other man had had it authenticated when he'd insured it, something had obviously happened to the original since then. Who'd authenticated it?

"Sotheby's."

"Okay, then it probably came to you as an original. And one of the easiest ways to lift a painting and get away with it is to place an excellent forgery in the place of the original after its been there a while. Once you've had a painting for years, well you don't look at it closely enough to notice that the red is a little brighter or there isn't as much overlap in the brushstrokes as there should be."

Blake had no idea what Bane said then in a tongue he didn't recognize, but the tone said it all.

"I could be wrong. But that hardly ever happens."

"I'll see that it's sent out to be reauthenticated immediately."

"I'm sure your insurance is excellent." Giving Bane a wink as the other man opened the door for him Blake stepped inside the man's office and immediately started looking all around with interest.

That there was hardwood flooring underneath his feet instead of plush carpeting didn't surprise Blake in the least as he walked further into the other man's work domain. Bane wasn't the plush type. The desk on the other hand wasn't at all what he'd been expecting, and Blake was fascinated by this new piece of the Bane puzzle.

Instead of an antique or a highly modern and utilitarian piece of furniture he'd been imagining Bane's desk was a polished, unshaped hunk of wood. The tree it had come from must have been ancient to have achieved the width it had, and Blake found himself walking over to run his fingers over the surface as he looked at the rings and thought of all the tree must have lived through in its lifetime.

"Where did you get this?"

"The tree fell on property I owned. I had it made."

"Not what I was expecting at all…but I like this new piece of the puzzle that is you." Turning back around to face Bane Blake placed his hands on the desk and boosted himself up to sit on the edge of it. "You don't display any art on your walls in here. Why?"

"I prefer to surround myself with knowledge here."

"A room without books is like a body without a soul." Blake quoted as he kicked his feet a little back and forth as he grinned cheekily at Bane. The walls on either side of them were shelves from wall to ceiling with the majority of those shelves filled with books. Ones that he'd bet weren't there for decoration, but had been read countless times over the decades and centuries in some cases. And all read by the man watching him like Blake was something else he wanted to add to his collection.

"Marcus Tullius Cicero said that."

"Very good, Mr. Bane."

Sliding off the desk since remaining on it would only tempt him into desk sex, Blake walked around the desk while trailing his fingers over its glossy surface, dragging things out so to speak before he gestured towards the large, custom leather chair. "Care to take a seat?"

Not being a fool Bane gave him an accessing look as he walked over and around the desk to join him, Bane's gaze never leaving Blake for a second as he took a seat in his chair.  
Pleased with Bane's cooperation Blake gave the man his wickedest smile. "Now put your hands on the arms of the chair and plant your feet. Oh, and keep them there until I'm done thanking you for my latest present. If you want me to thank you, that is."

"And how do you intend to thank me?"

Deliberately Blake bit down on his bottom lip to draw the man's attention to his mouth before answering. "Don't you like surprises, Bane?"

"No. But I think I must get used to them where you're concerned." And so saying Bane placed his hands on the arm rests, settling back more comfortably into the chair with his feet braced to keep the chair where it was.

Pleased that Bane was cooperating so readily, which probably meant Bane wouldn't behave for that much longer, Blake placed his hands on Bane's shoulders and then leaned in to whisper the question of whether or not the chair was strong enough to handle both their weights. It had been reinforced, obviously, but both their weights might be too much and ending up on the floor wasn't part of the plan. And would probably end in floor sex.

"It will."

"Excellent."

Slithering into Bane's lap so that he was lying across it Blake draped one arm around Bane's neck while his legs dangled over the side of Bane's chair, pleased that the position had the added benefit of locking down Bane's arm there.

A couple of wiggles to make himself comfortable and then Blake cupped Bane's cheek with his free hand to turn the man's head where he wanted it. Pleased when Bane allowed that too Blake shifted over to nuzzle their cheeks together as he breathed in the scents that he was learning were uniquely Bane's. It seemed that the man didn't wear cologne, or strongly scented products of any kind. He approved.

A kiss just under Bane's ear and then Blake moved again so that he could brush his lips over Bane's, the touches brief and teasing before he placed kisses against and along each of the scars that curved the man's lips into their own unique shape that Blake was determined to learn with his own mouth and tongue.

And once he'd kissed every scar Blake swiped his tongue over them, following the dips and curves to make sure that there was no doubt in Bane's mind that he had no problem with the scarring of the other man's mouth. No problem at all.

Having ignored Bane's growls and heated looks the whole time, and that on top of the urge to remind him that patience was a virtue, Blake made sure his point had been made before finally allowing his lips to settle back over Bane's entirely for a real, proper kiss.

And what a kiss.

Fuck he loved kissing. The hot, wet glide of their lips and tongues as they learned each other's mouths and how best to stimulate and pleasure the other. Nerve endings stroked into doing happy dances that made Snoopy's famed dance look like a lifeless shuffle. Blake let his hands move where they wished as he stroked his fingers over Bane's head and jawline, the bald thing a new sensation he thought he could grow to like quite a bit. Especially when the compensation for no hair to grab was a sexy, growly man who was melting his bones and brains into goo so thoroughly.

When air was necessary, which it unfortunately always was eventually, Blake pulled back and settled for some soft, quick kisses as his brain came somewhat back online. Enough for him to remember that while this was one very pleasurable thank you, a more official one was called for.

So pulling back for a minute Blake waited until Bane's dazed but beautiful eyes focused on his before saying what needed to be said.

"Thanking you for helping me get justice for Elise."

A moment of silence.

"Can I touch you now?"

Chuckling, because really, of course that was all Bane cared about right now, Blake told him that yes, he could touch him now. Though the clothes stayed on and no hands going below the waist.

Oh, and he only had about five more minutes before he had to get back to work.

"Then we'll use those five minutes wisely."

)

After Robin's departure Bane pulled out his phone to make note of the plans they'd made for both dinner and the theater the following weekend. They would be seeing 'Twelfth Night' it seemed. His bird's favorite work of Shakespeare. A sentiment he himself didn't share, but he was more than willing to sit through it if it meant taking Robin home with him afterwards. Home and straight to bed if he had anything to say about it.

His latest gift had indeed turned the tides in his favor.

That thought had his own turning to the girl Robin had thanked him for. Elise. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Or she had been before the Boondocks had got ahold of her.

A knock on the door.

"Enter."

Stepping into the room Barsad closed the door behind him and then walked up to the desk. "The cop seemed quite pleased when he left."

"And I was pleased with him."

"Are you sure that's wise? I still have been unable to uncover his past before he and his twin arrived in Gotham. Every instinct I have says there's far more to him than meets the eye. And that underestimating him could be our undoing."

"I agree that he hides much. But I will peel away all his layers. And keep him in line."

Barsad actually snorted.

"You doubt my ability."

"I think you have never come against his likes before. And that he is equally determined to peel away your layers. Along with your clothes."

Bane was looking forward to that last part.

"And you should know his twin should, barring some delay, arrive in Gotham in approximately twenty-six hours. Possibly precipitated by a phone call he received from their grandfather last night."

"I see." That could be a problem. Or a welcome distraction if Arthur's arrival meant Bane didn't have to concern himself with the friendship between his cop and the Brit Robin had told him he was going to dinner and the movies with tonight. Apparently they were going to see some mindless action flick while eating their weight in popcorn. Robin's parting words, actually. Which did not bode well for the man's stomach and continued good health.

"Their family is dangerous even before one takes Saito's warning into account."

This line of conversation was starting to get tiresome. "I merely intended to take him to my bed until I no longer want him there."

"Just remember that you cannot keep him, Bane. Not for long and certainly not for keeps."

"And when have you known any of my bed partners to interest me for long?"

"When has anyone ever challenged and intrigued you like this one has?" Was Barsad's very accurate and blunt resort.

"I will learn all there is I want to know in time. Then he will no longer intrigue or challenge me."

There was something about Barsad's expression for a moment that suggested he doubted Bane's words, but his second was wise enough to drop the topic. At least for the moment. Instead he stated that it should be interesting to see what Bane uncovered about the man in the future.

"I'll keep you appraised."

A nod of thanks. "My original reason for interrupting you was that al Ghul and/or his daughter placed a number of listening devices during their time here. Do you wish them all deactivated now?"

"Yes. Mail the devices back to them afterwards."

"With pleasure."

"And also see that the Rembrandt downstairs is taken to my appraiser. I want it looked over again."

"Consider it done, Sir."

)

Shaking his head over the never-ending stupidity of the human race as he typed up his report on the accidental death of a tourist that afternoon, Blake wished not for the first time that there wasn't a 'death by human stupidity' box he could check off. Stupid fucking selfies. Stupid fucking fad. Stupid fucking people that did stupid fucking things to try and impress their friends and other likeminded idiots by posing in the stupidest places. And in this case the fucking idiot had ended up murdering another innocent human being who'd just been on the way home from work. Minding his own businesses right up until two hundred and fifteen pounds of stupidity fell six stories, right onto him. Splat. And that was the end of William Hughes, curtesy of one Scott Brakenreid.

It had not been pretty.

The sound of his phone going off startled him out of his thoughts, Blake reaching for it automatically. And then he checked the screen to see what it had to tell him.

Oh.

Blake always had his phone and laptop set to notify him if certain names, words, or places appeared in the news. This name was not one that had headlined in the news for years now. But according to this Austrian news article the Kunsthistorisches Museum had been robbed recently, three painting taken and the calling card of the Swarzer Tiger left behind.

The Schwarzer Tiger. German for Black Tiger.

Every once in a while there was a heist that some idiot decided was the work of the Black Tiger despite the lack of calling card left behind. And to be fair that was only natural since the majority of the world had no idea that the thief in question had been dead for years. But this, the leaving of a taunting note and a piece of a tiger's eye gemstone…

The security of the Kunsthistorisches Museum was nothing to laugh at. In fact, he had intimate knowledge of exactly what sort of security the thief would have had to bypass as Arthur had had a hand in their latest security upgrade. They hadn't been able to afford the best, few could given what Arthur charged for that, but what they had gotten would have proved problematic for the majority of thieves out there. And the ones who'd have had no problem bypassing it weren't the sort to give others credit for their work. And yes, it could be that the client or thief just wanted to confuse the police, sending them chasing shadows while the real culprits slipped away. It wouldn't be the first time. But still…most thieves had too much respect and fear of the Black Tiger to dare finger him when there were plenty of others to chose from. Even now, though he hadn't pulled a job in well over a decade, Arthur said the man's name was still spoken of carefully when brought up. Just in case.

Someone trying to pick a fight with the Black Tiger perhaps? Draw him out of retirement if he was still alive?

Mulling that over Blake sent the article to his brother and then set his phone aside.

"Something stumping the great detective? Do tell."

Looking over at Eames as the Englishman wandered into his bullpen Blake curved his lips into a smirk as he reminded Eames that it was lieutenant, not detective. And he wasn't stumped, just puzzled as to why someone was impersonating the Black Tiger in Vienna.

"The Black Tiger? What got hit?"

Briefly Blake summarized the news article for him, surprised that Eames hadn't already heard about it in all honesty.

Settling his admittedly fine ass on the corner of Blake's desk, Eames seemed to be mulling it all over. "Well I have heard over the years that that old bastard took on some apprentices after his son ended up the unwilling guest of a Russian prison. Maybe one of them has decided to take up where the old man left off before he ended up dead. Took the name for the reputation attached to it." A thoughtful pause. "Come to think of it, didn't the Tiger buy it here in Gotham?"

"So the rumors say."

"Right." Eames snapped his fingers, a pleased look on his face. "He nicked something, didn't he, from some Chinese crime boss. The one that was the head of that organization your step mum took down. Took him years to hunt the Tiger down they say, no surprise, but he managed it in the end. Gutted him, didn't he?"

"And, legend has it, Long Ka-shing had him cremated and used as fertilizer for his award winning roses. Right along with plenty of others who ended up dead on his orders."

"Well at least the bodies didn't go to waste then."

A prerequisite to working in homicide was a twisted sense of humor, so Blake laughed at that. Though mostly he just had to smile when he was reminded that the Black Tiger was dead and dust now. A much slower, more agonizing death was what the fucker had deserved, but Blake would settle for him being dead. Dead and all but forgotten by most until now.

Though he would never, ever forget.

Or forgive.


	9. Art is Never Finished

Art Is Never Finished

"Are is never finished, only abandoned." Leonardo da Vinci

Blinking awake Blake sat up in bed in one smooth motion, his covers pooling around his naked body as he took in his surrounding and opened his senses up to seek whatever had roused him...three hours before he would have normally woken up at. The obvious culprits were Eames or Buffy, but he was pretty sure Buffy had stayed with Eames during the night and Eames was no more a morning person than he was. There were no scratching or whining noises coming from the door...oh.

Lips curving in a smile Blake snuggled back under his covers, his eyes already closed when there was a light series of knocks on his bedroom door. Old code that let him know his twin was there and was requesting entrance. A code he now had to answer as Blake twisted around to tap out the return code on his headboard to let Arthur know that he knew he was there and was awake. Aka Arthur could enter because he was alone and not doing something his brother would rather not see him doing.

He had just enough time to lower his arm and straighten his covers before the door opened, Arthur entering without making a sound.

Even in the darkness, with the drawn black curtains keeping most of the weak morning light out, Arthur moved confidentially across the room to the other side of the bed. And pulling up the covers Blake's brother slid under them join him, shifting across the mattress until they were facing each other with Blake leaning in at the same time that Arthur did so that their foreheads touched.

It was something they'd done as long as they could remember. Slept this way. Even when they'd been old enough and had the option of having their own beds they'd often ended up sharing one anyway. Before they'd come to this home and this family they'd slept soundly only when they could feel each other's skin against theirs and the other's every breath. Reminding them that the other was alive and with them no matter how hostile their world had seemed. They were still together. They were not alone.

They'd even speculated that perhaps they'd been doing it since the womb, though there was no way to know for sure. Their mother had been dead for the majority of their lives now...and odds were she hadn't had the money to spend on doctor's visits even if the necessity of that had occurred to her.

"Got an earlier flight I see." He wasn't surprised. He was pretty sure that Eames had been texting Arthur nonstop since he'd found out about Bane. The traitor.

A sound of agreement. "I ran into a friend of Grandfather's at the airport. He offered me a ride on his jet."

Ah, that made sense. Their grandfather had many friends. And even more people who wanted to curry the man's favor by doing his family a favor.

"Shouldn't you be in my guestroom rewarding your boy toy for being a snitch?"

"He's sleeping with this bitch named Buffy currently."

Laughing, Blake patted in the vicinity of his brother's shoulder in mock sympathy. "There, there. He loves you more, you know. Heck, she loves you more."

"She does. Though Grandfather's her favorite."

"Because she lives to be contrary. And knows he's a cat person."

A low sound of amusement. Arthur was a cat person too. So was Blake, come to that. Not that they'd ever tell Buffy that. To say she'd hold it against them was a massive understatement. And she knew how to hold a grudge.

Relaxing for a minute of two Blake was thinking that maybe they were actually going to go to sleep when Arthur asked him what was going on with Bane. No bullshit.

As if he was dumb enough to think that his brother would let him get away with bullshitting him. And wouldn't keep on him until he got the answers he was looking for if Blake were stupid enough to try.

"He's under my skin. Fuck is he under my skin. It's never been like this. I could blame it on our chemistry, because fuck knows we've got that in spades...but it's more than that. More than his body, mind, the way he makes me want-no, the way he fucking compels me to just try and figure him out. To best him. It's like he knows all my buttons and keeps smacking them all at once with those damn turkey platter hands of his."

"So it's not just that you're hoping that those hands are indicative of other body parts then."

"If only."

A long, drawn out sigh indicated what Arthur thought about that. Which somehow compelled Blake to try and explain better, even though he sounded stupid to his own ears even as he said it.

"He's like a half finished work by a favorite master. You can see the big picture, all that it could have been, and you ache for what was lost by it being abandoned midway. That it was never allowed to be what it was meant to be. And even though I know, intellectually, that I can't complete it, would only ruin it if I tried...fuck if I don't want to take a shot at it. At him."

"That analogy doesn't work." Arthur, being Arthur, responded. "People aren't created by one person, but by everyone that comes into contact with them. That's why the majority of people are such fucking messes. We're all always works in progress."

"Art is never finished."

"Only abandoned." Arthur finished, Blake somehow able to hear or sense that his brother was rolling his eyes at him. "Which means if you want to have the last brush stroke on him, so to speak, you'll have to kill him directly afterwards. And you know I don't like digging in the dirt."

"You'd bury him? Seriously? Have you not seen how big he is?"

"I was being sarcastic. Of course we could come up with a hundred better ways to dispose of his body. Thousands even, depending on how long I have to come up with better disposal methods."

True. Very true. Especially if the rest of their family got involved.

But back to what they'd been talking about before. "I think a lot of people have tried to finish or make Bane their own. And they all obviously failed miserably."

"And you've lost your mind and want to join their ranks?"

"I think I have to try."

"Why?"

"Because better I fail...then spend years being haunted by the what ifs. So we'll both compete to see who can figure the other out first while having really amazing sex. Until we both fail miserably." Blake worked up a small smile. "But at least we'll have had that really good sex first."

"It better be more than just really good given what you're risking."

"I'll do my best."

"And what if you succeed? What if you find the man behind the masks?"

To say he had a healthy ego was somewhat of an understatement. Blake knew that. And he was actually a little flattered that Arthur thought that he could do what no one else before him had done. At least as far as he knew. And...well, iit was unlikely that anyone who knew things Bane didn't want the world to know had been allowed to live very long with their knowledge.

"If I find the man...I'll have to wing it. Cause fuck if I know."

A telling silence.

"Fuck. We have the worst taste in men."

Blake nodded in absolute agreement. "Yup."

Another sigh. "I looked into the heist in Vienna. It reads like a very well-informed copycat. Too well informed for my tastes. Whoever it was knew too much that couldn't be learned from police reports or educated guesses. I'm having some contacts look in on the son."

Shit. "You think he got out."

"He's been in his latest prison for eight years. He should have figured out how to get out by now."

True. Or at least he and Arthur would have managed it long ago. But the Black Tiger had never been complimentary when it came to his only known biological child. In the master thief's books his son had never been anything but a complete and total failure to him. Which, given the man setting the bar, only meant so much. The Tiger had expected perfection every time. Or else.

"Would he take up the mantle though? The bastard left him to rot in Russian prisons for life. On top of letting him take the blame for some of his heists."

"We'll know more once Alexi gets back to me. But if it is Roman, he might come looking for us."

That was true. The question of why though...that was the real question. Neither of them knew if Roman even knew of their existence. Few had at the time, and most of them were now dead, imprisoned, or wouldn't waste their time speaking to Roman if he could even find them. But there were a few who could be bought easily, though how much they could tell the Black Tiger's son was questionable. Roman, if it was Roman, would probably come to Gotham regardless though. And would want confirmation of his father's death at the very least.

Arthur sighed again, then pulled away. "I'm going to go kick Buffy out unless you want me to stay."

"Nah. Go get your sex while you can. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, after all."

"Carpe Diem."

And on that note Arthur got off the bed and headed off towards the door to let himself out, Blake going back to snuggling under the covers even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon now. Dammit.

)

As much as one might seek to control every aspect of their life, and succeed in Bane's case, traffic was often one of those unavoidable obstacles. And irritants. Especially at times like this when they were surrounded on all sides by other vehicles, having not moved so much as an inch in the last ten minutes. It was also becoming extremely tempting to take down the license plate of the car immediately to his right. The young men within deserved to be beaten, even possibly being put to death for their taste in music alone. If one could even call the noise coming from the metal structure music. Bane certainly didn't. And really he'd be doing the world a service.

Looking over in Barsad's direction Bane was tempted to make a comment about sound pollution and how arresting someone for it had to be easy enough that even the most dimwitted of cops could complete the task, but Bane noted that his second was deep in thought and stayed quiet instead.

That he was involved with a cop who would undoubtedly take offense to slurs against his fellow officers might have also played a part in the decision, loathed as Bane was to admit it. Even in the safety of his own mind.

And thinking of his cop Bane decided to see what the other man was up to as he put his ear piece in place and then placed the call.

"Hey, Sexy."

It was disconcerting to be greeted that way...but he liked it, too.

"Robin. Are you busy?"

"Good timing on your part, actually. I'm killing time outside the courthouse at the moment. I don't think they're going to get to me today. Too bad, so sad. What are you up to?"

"Stuck in traffic. What case were you called in for?"

"It's from before you came to Gotham. The little shit's got lawyers with lawyers and so much family money a quarter of this city could choke on it. There were issues too since he tried to take advantage of his step, step father's diplomatic immunity even though the bastard's American, born and bred. But I got him cold and his family knows it. Of course the bribery charges were greatly reduced at their hearings too."

"They were foolish to try and pay you off."

"Yeah, but it's what they do. How they live. They don't know another way."

This was true. And why they should all be put down for the sake of humanity as a whole.

"So going to or coming from somewhere? I hope coming, though you denied me that pleasure last time."

Ignoring the latter Bane stated that he had been on his way to his lawyer, ironically enough, and was about to explain that it was in regards to his forged Rembrandt when his ear filled with other commentary.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! Right in front of the fucking courthouse you stupid, idiotic, disgrace to thieves everywhere? That purse can't possibly hold anything worth this, just look at her clothes, you fucking asshat! Don't you even think about-FUCK!"

The sound of pounding feet filled Bane's ears, followed by shouts, a couple screams, and Bane's cop stating that he was a police officer and to freeze.

Judging from the cursing, orders for people to get out of his way, and the feet hitting pavement Bane assumed that the purse snatcher, while stupid enough to go hunting in a place often filled with law enforcement, had enough sense to realize that his one hope was that Robin was a typical cop. Out of shape and prone to giving up easily.

Bane's little bird was nothing of the sort.

"Stop running, you stupid, Fuckhead! You really think you can outrun me? I'd be able to catch you even if you had a fucking city block lead. Dumbass!"

Amused, Bane spoke and hoped he'd be heard over the sounds of traffic and the pedestrians he'd imagine Robin and the thief were running through like a living obstacle course. "You swear too much, My Robin."

"Get fucking used to it!"

"Robin-"

"Oh come on! Ma'am, are you all right? Yeah? Good. I'll be right back. You sonofabitch! She's like seventy!"

"I'm only sixty three!"

"Sorry! And pardon my language!"

"So to her you apologize."

"She's old. And probably someone's grandmother. You don't curse around grandmothers. You-fuck I shouldn't have gone to that buffet for lunch. Fuck it."

He was about to ask when kind of buffet, somehow he doubted salad or other remotely nutritious offerings had been available, when Robin made a sound of victory followed by the thud and smack of human bodies colliding.

"Gotcha, Assehole. Run front me, Fucker. You are so under a fucking arrest."

Bane listened to his Robin chew the thief out in between reading him his rights and handing the 'little fucker' over to some uniformed cops since he needed to head back to the courthouse in case he was called. He'd fill out the paperwork later. And he fucking hated paperwork.

Content to listen, Bane waited until Robin was on his way back to the courthouse before speaking.

"I assume you are uninjured?"

"A little road rash. Nothing worth mentioning."

"Road rash?"

"Yeah, you know...the few layers of skin you lose when you slide on concrete."

"Clean your wounds well."

"Yes, Mummy."

"Don't call me that."

"You would prefer Daddy? Cause I gotta tell you, that's not one of my kinks."

"Nor mine."

"Excellent." There was a definite smile in his Robin's voice with his next words. "I should probably warn you that my twin is in the city and he isn't inclined to like you. He's also inclined to make out with Eames, so keep that in mind too. He's the one with the longer hair."

"I have seen pictures. And even without, I wouldn't mistake him for you."

A sound of amusement. "This is when you're supposed to say that I'm the better looking one."

Bane smiled. "You're the one I want."

"Not bad. Half the point anyway."

"I would rather stroke you than your ego."

"Now that's better. And of course you would say that as I'm approaching the little old lady that bastard all but threw at me to try and slow me down. Fucker. Gotta go. Have fun on your 'business' trip you were telling me about. Don't fuck anyone else or I'll fuck you up when you get back. Remember I'm as diabolical as my dimples."

"As your dimples?" Bane repeated, amused.

"Do you have any idea how much shit I've gotten away with because of these babies? Your head would explode. Now kiss you later. Bye."

The call was ended before Bane could respond.

)

Meanwhile in Vienna

He did nothing to call attention to himself as he waited in a corner for his plane to begin boarding. He didn't need to try to attract attention though. For as much as man's evolution had resulted in the loss of the animal awareness that had once allowed mankind to survive in their hostile world, some of those instincts did still remain in man's basest of self. And there was something about this man that chilled the blood and raised the hair on the backs of necks.

Physically he was not imposing. Despite the expensive clothes and haircut, the quality of his hand luggage, he looked drawn, even underfed. To the more discerning eyes he had the look of someone who'd once been handsome and fit, only to lose his looks thanks to a hard life filled with suffering. His and others.

And of course he was aware of their reactions. Even those who hid it well. One's most basic, animalistic instincts were well honed in prisons. Especially the sort he'd been imprisoned in. Caged in, like an animal. Treated worse than an animal. But no more. Now he was the predator. No longer prey. No longer captive, but free.

To say he'd dreamed of these days would be an understatement. Planning out his life and revenge once he was free had kept him as sane as he'd ever been. Though the plans he'd made in the beginning had all been derailed when his father's letters had stopped being smuggled into him.

At first he'd thought his father had simply grown tired of mocking him. Then he'd heard the whispers of the old man's death in Gotham. That infamous American city across the sea.

He looked forward to seeing it with his own eyes.


End file.
